Watch, slowly. Slowly watch the tiny bead of water seep from its source. The tiny bead of water running down this surface, leaving a streak of salty residue behind. The drop runs to the cliff, and then falls, shining in the bright light. Shining in the bright light was the tiny little bead of water that you watch slowly. Do none understand? Do none uderstand? Can any comprehend the texture of a tear. The millions of smaller water droplets inside it, slowly moving. Slowly moving to the cliff. Then falling from above, to its depressing death. To the origin of the tear. Thoughts of depression. Thoughts of depression brought this tiny tear to life. In an enclosing mind life was created, lived out, and then shattered. Tiny particles of light stricken tears flying through the air. So beautifully. So smoothly. With a sense of finality. For the tear's job was now done. Yet another would take its place. Another tear composed of smaller tears all in one bunch. Cramped together, and then hitting the ground, and breaking free. Not scared of death. Like from wear the origin of these tears came from. Thoughts of depression. The origin of the thoughts of depression. The unscared thoughts of death. The place these thoughts originated from. A person. A human being. A human being that had thoughts of depression. Unscared thoughts of death. A tear made up of thousands of tears each containing a thought of depression. Then rolling to the cliffs edge slowly, then falling off. Hitting the ground. Dying tears. Dying fearlessly. All from one person. One person. A single person. The person... me.