If I was a melancholy individual I would see a glass of water as pre-tears. Tears waiting to be. Or tears that have been already been done. Seeing myself as crying tears that have been cried before, by sadder individuals. The tears then are borrowed. Traded. Traffific by those who rate reasons for tears as more sad than others. More desperate. More hurt, therefore more worthy of the limited supply of tears.
But I am not a melancholy individual. That was pretend.
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