These Are Not Tears

I don’t really feel like being here right now, all I want is to go home, but in a sense I can’t fathom going home. My room is a wreck, and yet it’s empty. Boxes barging in, or wanting to. Pushing them away, I don’t want them to come in and swallow it all… I don’t want anything but what I had, and what this all used to be. Change. How much I hate, it, but I guess I was asking for it, wasn’t I? I asked for a change, and complained that I never got what I wanted so here I am facing a change that will either make or break my life. Moving. I’ve done it before and I guess it shouldn’t be that hard, but last time I had hardly anything to hold on to. I didn’t think that I had anything here until the danger of losing it all became clear. Laughter surrounds me but a heartbreak consumes me. No one knows. I’m fine, I don’t care. I am happy to leave. Happy to go back to where I had nothing- but wait, what is this? Tears? I haven’t had them in so long and suddenly they come to me as if they’ve been my companion for years. They aren’t my companion, they need to leave but they keep flowing, on the inside. Always on the inside. Tears don’t seem to be able to flow anywhere else.