The pain we feel more

11/07/2022 Nilson Lattari

Everybody feels pain. It can be when something thumps you and a mark appears on your skin, or you feel a backache because you worked out on a bad day. Pain makes us cry, and a little tear slides down our faces.
We cry because we feel pain, but sometimes, it’s good for us to cry. Because we cry for joy, for victories, and for losses. We cry for emotion, for loss, and for missing someone. There are people who cry for everything, until for sadness.
When we cry for pain, it’s for vent, and our soul rests like a cup full of water waiting for the moment it overflows. Or like butter sliding with the heat from the sun, when we forget it on the table and don’t put it into the refrigerator.
And, this forgetfulness makes us cry to forget our anguish, and deep down, we don’t forget anything. Every remembrance brings us more tears.
We cry for everything, even when we feel more.
Among pain, there is one that makes us cry because we cannot avoid our tears, or we can no longer stop them. Our tears overcome the barrier of our eyes like a flood that surprises us on a bridge, on a river bank beyond our forces. It doesn’t etch our skin, it doesn’t mark us, it doesn’t warn us of losses, and it provokes us, lacking air like kids trying to get air deep down from their souls. When everybody is waiting for their cries, in suspense. Suddenly, their screams spread through the house and tormenting our ears and people trying to pacify those souls, and they cry salty tears on their faces or on the other’s faces who were helping them; it is the pain of the silence, the saddest.
Nothing is capable of pacifying the one who has never returned home, the irreversible decision, when we are out and we find our ex-lover laughing at others and not at us, the pain of exclusion, and from reality.
It’s a pain that marks us like molten lead, the smoke that fire leaves in the air, the atmosphere that we will always remember. The day that we see on the agenda through time, to celebrate the void of our past and of our future, of our regret, but a pain that reminds us of the lost love, and it reminds us of our promises that we wouldn’t make those things again. And we cry, and tears are remembrances if we remember those things.
If we remember the funny moments and live these memories until the end with their bad moments, they are irreparable and incurable tears that hurt us. And our faces turn sad thinking about the past.
The pain we feel more is the pain of indifference. When we know that time doesn’t fix the pain of the lost passion.