For as long as I can remember I've been crying.  I don't
have much recollection of anything before my first love,
well, my first love leaving me.  I can't really remember
why, either.  What's even odder about all this is that I can
remember what I think is my birth.  I remember it quit well;
a world of green upside down as my tears raced down my
eyelids to my forehead and smashing to the ground leaving
only a shattered puddle on the floor, which no one took any
notice of.  I also remember an eternal feeling of
loneliness, which seems to follow me through my life
forever.  I don't think anyone ever cared for me, wouldn't
remember if they did.  You must think that I am speaking
metaphorically, but rest assure that all of this is true and
even as I am writing down these words I weep uncontrollably.
I try to imagine a better life but soon grow weary of the
thought and fall into an even deeper depression and continue
doing what I do best.
   At this point I can only come to one conclusion; I am on
no use to this world.  I only bring sadness to myself and
others.  So as I hold this weapon in front of my mouth I
suddenly realize how comfortably it was made for self-use,
more than on anything else.  Maybe I have finally found it's
right use.  My brain sends the signal for me to squeeze the
trigger.  Not fast enough.
   He told me to stop.  I don't know who he was, but I
listened to him anyway.  I guess I would never argue with
someone who is willing to propose a better suggestion than
death.  I looked at him as tears kept dripping down my face
and yet again, hitting the ground to leave only a shattered
dot of broken crystal.
   "I can not stop you from doing this, as you have your
own free will, but I will try to persuade you otherwise".
   I asked this voice why he thinks I shouldn't and why he
cared, since I am of no use or concern of his.
   "You are more of a concern than you think, and or more
use than you will ever know.  The tears that you have shed
since you remember have shed since the dawn of time, though
you would not remember that far back.  As cruel as this may
sound, the world feeds of your misery.
   As he speaks, I watch my tears breaking on my floor and
disappearing, thus ending their existence.  I only wonder
why I don't remember anything and why would anyone feed off
my sorrow.
   "If all you would remember are drops of agony pouring
down your face all of your life for eternity, we would have
this conversation alt more, or at least once with the wrong
results.  I made you forget the unnecessary so you could
continue being of use to this world".
   It only made me more confused, I was becoming angry.
The unnecessary?! As in happiness?! Love?! Purpose of
being?!?!
   "I believe that in a just world, one must suffer for
others to survive.  This world is a world of sacrifices, and
it always has been.  There must be a martyr".
   A martyr chooses to be so, and is not chosen by others!
I am not a martyr, I am a victim!
   "not anymore, you now know the truth.  Let me explain.
You may feel like your tears are made of all the drops of
rain in the world, though it is exactly the opposite.  Do
you understand?  Without your misery this world cannot
exist.  Your tears feed hunger, grow crops, fill oceans.
You bring life from your feeling of death and make the world
continue existing beside you.  As I said, I cannot stop you
as you are a being of free will.  But remember that life
will bury itself along side you.  This world till now has
been just.  An example of how a sacrifice on one can mean
life for all.  Continue, and this will slowly become a
figment of my imagination".
   I though a while about his words.  I thought about my
"responsibilities", how my agony means existence to others
and his idea of a just world.  I had only this to say:
 "if this really is a just world I would have loved ones
who's tears of mourning would make this world go on", I said
as I weep one last tear before letting my mind send the
signal.