Tears

By Thomas Feng

July 20^th, 2019

Dear July,

Sorry for being slow, I know it has been almost ten days since I wrote to you.

It has been a difficult few weeks, July.

I broke down for the first time in a long time. I lay on the couch on Tuesday night shaking uncontrollably, in tears for half an hour.

Three years ago, I put on a Birdy CD after dinner in a shitty, derelict, dirty Victorian terrace home in North Melbourne and cried softly into the quiet, dark and long winter's night in a corner on my own.

The only lights on were some $1 cheap festival fairylights providing a faint, distant glow.

This time around, I distracted myself watching waves of incense float around the apartment before they vanished before my own eyes.

And then I turned the lights off.

There were no distractions in the dark. Just me and my wandering mind.

I sobbed quietly, until suddenly I was wrapped in Michelle's arms, howling grotesquely as she tried to calm me down.

I had been avoidant, trying to be strong and stay above water.

Being "strong", just meant hoping that the sad times would slowly fade away.

I don't think I realised how many tears I had been welling up inside me.

Alas, I remembered how important crying is, and not just when I consume moody movies and art like when I typically cry, but in real life.

Real life. Whatever that means.

I am over the moon to be taking some time-out to just be for the moment, and to acknowledge the weight of emotion.

I am lucky to have the support of loving, honest, beautiful people in my life.

I hope you do too.

Melbourne winters suck.

With love,

Thomas

P.S. Thank you for persevering with my 2019 letters to July series (check out previous letters to July). I haven't been well, but appreciate your kind support and patience. It is good to write when I feel this way, so this project is more important than ever.