I was always told to be strong, and not to cry. Crying was a sign of weakness they said. They said that it takes strength to keep the tears from falling. They had always amazed me, so I tried to be like them. I never cried. I trained myself, and worked hard, never shedding a tear for any reason. It worked, for I was but a child, a simple thing easy to mold into whatever you desire. It happened then.
I hit the limit. I was the strongest person, and there was no longer any challenge in anything. I was truly perfect. For years I reigned supreme, I was in charge, and none could defy me. I ruled with an iron fist.
As I entered my adult years, I met someone I had never seen before. That person asked me why I never showed my tears, even after my friends and family left into the afterlife. They asked me if I hated them, and was in fact happy they were gone. Blasphemy, I told them, they were of my blood, or had stood beside me in the darkest of times. Then why, the person asked, why don't you cry for them?
I replied, telling the person who stood with sad colored eyes. Crying makes people weak, I am strong, and so I cannot cry. It takes strength to keep tears to oneself.
They looked with wide eyes. Lies, they said, you have been told lies. My eyes widened. This person was telling me my life was a lie…? No, they are the lie, I remember thinking as rage entered my expression.
You say it is a lie? You fool, keep your tears inside and you will be strong. Look at where I am, I got here by never shedding a tear, just look at how people cry, and become weaker, see how I stay dry and am ruling over them.
Their next words surprised me. So sad, so sad, you have been keeping your tears inside for many years now, because you have believed so strongly in the lie. Did you know you are right? It takes strength to keep from crying, but it takes true strength to let your tears fall, and be prepared to let them fall again.
Long after they left, I remained there, shocked at how it all seemed so right. Could this stranger have been right could I be living a lie? I looked around, for what seemed to be the first time. And I saw in my warriors a fierce determination, the very same warriors who I had known to cry when sadness struck.
Those eyes were strong, far stronger than I remember. I look in the mirror, and I barely stifle a gasp. My eyes… my eyes showed so much, and yet so little. Black eyes, full of hate, and malice, yet locking away something, deprived of something they would not let others see. They showed me something, and that something frightened me.
I was not perfect, and I was not strong. I was weak, for keeping my tears inside.
That stranger has changed me, I know it, and with their few words they have changed my entire life.
I look everywhere for this stranger, though not entirely sure why. It takes me time before I find them, and when I do, they are looking up at the sky, and they are crying. The color of sadness is their eyes, and the color runs down their cheeks. Scars I see on them, perhaps the stranger cried when they were given? Sun colored hair darkened by night.
I approach, and they look up at me, smiling and crying. Care for tissue, they ask? I realize vaguely, that tears are running down my pale face. A water substance pours from my eyes, and I find myself in their embrace, crying my fake strength away. I cry for the childhood I had lost, for the lies I had lived, and had forced upon others.
The stranger cries too, for reasons unknown to me. Their sun kissed skin contrast with my pale complexion, and they're eyes show great color, while mine show darkness, even our hair contrast with one another's sun and dark hair.
We cry and cry until we have shed all the tears our bodies with allow. Then we leave together, ready to shed more tears. Ready to become truly strong, with tears in our eyes.