Today, I Weep.
Today, I weep for Notre-Dame.
I brush the tears in opposite directions across each of my rosy cheeks. I graze the tip of my finger below my bottom lashes in an attempt to drain the Seine without smearing my mascara. I watched in horror as history was engulfed in flames and my core was engulfed by guilt.
Should I have taken more photos? I had brought a blue digital camera for the sole purpose of capturing every single second of the trip, but most of the time it was nestled in the backpack I had brought with me. Should I have passed through the Cathédrale at a slower pace, paying closer attention to the nicks and the crannies of the floors and the walls? I remember being caught in a state of awe by it all, yet I still regret not appreciating it more.
How does one show adequate appreciation for a priceless piece of art?
I had wondered if the darkness of the church ever bothered those inside. I have realized now that some things are better left like that. My pupils had grown big in its Gothic shadows, but now seeing it lit up on the television screen, they were large with fear.
Today, I weep.
Today, I weep for a man that I am deeply in love with. I am fascinated by his presence and hypnotized by his charm, but also devastated by the burning flames of lust. Infatuation ignites in my brain and spreads like a summer afternoon brush fire. All it takes is one little spark, then I find myself in a bed of ashes.
Who would have guessed to pair smeared mascara and smudged lipstick with satin chiffon ivory evening wear? Maybe it is the wild look of raccoon eyes or maybe it is the fact that it appears as if I have only three lashes (since the drying tears clumped them all together) that is so enticing?
Should I have taken more photos of us? Should I have appreciated his nicks and his crannies and how he always surprised me with breakfast in the morning? I am overwhelmed with affliction.
How does one show adequate appreciation for a priceless piece of art?
As a young child, I was taught not to play with matches, but now I weep — because I did not do what I was told.
Today, I weep for the blisters on my broken heart.
Today, I weep for the Earth.
No matter how evil a day is, the sun has no choice, but to rise again in the morning. No matter how much negativity torches the alleyways, the meadows, and the houses surrounded by white picket fences, the planet will continue to rotate the same way it always has.
The side effect of existence is an unavoidable death. One’s own clock will cease to tick, but the sphere in space will keep spinning. As the ice melts and the fires burn, the planet will not flinch at those wounds throughout her flesh.
Today, I weep for everyone and everything.
It is okay to cry sometimes.
