Re:Sound

At night, she would cry. Always seeking to silence, to hide her cries, she'd bury her head in her pillow. As if cotton, polyester, feathers or whatever it is, could drown out and absorb her cries...her pain. The tears now, her new language, she was always too choked up, too engulfed in herself for any other means of expression. Sometimes the tears rolled down her face with their own impeccable timing, as soon as one approached her chin, another prepared itself at the tear duct for take off. Other times, they weren't there, but she thought them - gushing down her face - she imagined so intently of their existence, that she couldn't help but to continuously wipe her cheeks with the back side of her hands. Her crying now consumed her, it was all she wanted to do. It's all that she will ever do, until she comes to the realization that her continuous inversion, her crying is her continuous lie to the world. Her truth comes in silencing her tears and turning up and out the entangled song of her heart for the midnight sky to hear.