Tears. Not the sobby heartbroken ones that tear you apart every time you gasp for air. Not the ones laying on your kitchen floor. Not the sniffly soaked handkerchief ones that will never ever stop. Not the tears of exhaustion of over work. They were the tears of frustration with myself, with others, with the world. The tears of ten pages of crap. The tears of a five minute presentation in another language. Of discovering that your perception of yourself is completely different from the world’s perception of you, of your friends perceptions of themselves. Of making a mistake that you thought was right. Of an empty house. Of bad poetry, and pretentious short stories and people you haven’t spoken to in months asking for favors. Of peter pan and willy wonka and the matrix all rolled into one. Of dead cats and Nazis and Israel. Of writing forever and never, amen. Of rain in December. Of clinging to the past. Of ignoring the past. Of the fact that Tupperware has a longer memory than you. Of yowling animals. Of dying children you will never know. Happy world AIDS day everyone