The darkness pulls at me like a child tugging at the hem of my shirt, urging me to pay attention. There is a tightness in my throat, the child laughs, knowing the tightness is my effort at holding back tears. They well in my eyes like small oceans, waves ready to crash against my lashes and find release in the familiar paths they’ve carved down my cheeks so many times before. I wonder if there is any point, any relief in these tears. Tears that come so often without explanation tears that I’ve known as long as I can remember, tears that will come again and again. Logically I know there is no point, these tears are a side effect of a brain that doesn’t function properly. It’s foolish to think I could find relief in such pointless tears.