prayer to my glass jar.

i cried last night. nicholas can attest to the fact i cry at least once a day, if not multiple episodes. last night i wept and wept until i was dedhydrated of all body liquids. this is a normal occurence, so dont feel concerned. i just have a lot of weepiness in me, because life is so incredibly beautiful and sad and big. i cry every day at school when the kids sing god bless the usa. i cry when i think about my husband. i cried in the movie the holiday when arthur abbott enters the ballroom and everyone stands up and claps for him, and throughout the duration of the movie selena. so last night i cried and cried until the bed was a mess of mascara smears and snot, but it wasnt anything out of the ordinary. and my teammate just held me close and stroked my hair and did all of those things you daydreamed about when you were little and thought having a boyfriend would change your life. so cheesy it makes me want to barf. but its true. so anyway, i was leaking out of my eyeballs, drowning in my own state of misery and woe and tearfulness, when i finally looked up.

and there, looking back at me, was another set of eyeballs full of tears. i hope nicholas doesnt kill me for posting this on the internet. he is a very manly man that is good at sports and manly junk, and my family refers to him as "head boy" because he is so good at being a boy. but there he was, misty eyed just because i was. and i felt (and feel) like the luckiest woman in the world because when i was fourteen years old i wrote a poem about myself entitled glass jar, and here are a few of the lines:

she thinks her soul will collapse from the weight
of the
beauty and the pain
and she wants someone
to collect her
tears
in a glass jar.

and last night i was just reminded again that my tears are counted and collected, no matter how many i shed. that even though i cry six times a day, someone cares about each and every single tear and is collecting them in his own little glass jar, and no matter how much water i leak, each drop matters and is precious. my fourteen year old self would weep to know that she found her glass jar, and my twenty three year old self does. so sorry to post about love again and be silly and cheesy and a giddy girl inside, but its the theme of my life right now. and i guess i just want to say again, cause i know ive already said it, that a glass jar is worth waiting for, and that you deserve it, and if someone doesnt care about every tear, they dont deserve yours. your tears matter, even if you have 4 billon of em, like me. and i believe in happy endings, and that each person has their glass jar somewhere in the world, ready to collect all of the condensation that falls from their eyelids. hallelujah for a melodramatic fourteen year old that knew she needed someone to collect her tears in a glass jar, and a twenty five year old named nick that has glass jars to spare.