As a child i cried all the time. Over real things, over silly things... my tears would flow endlessly. If my mother and i walked passed a KB Toys and on the off chance that i did not get a Gi Joe i would break down in tears. If i was in the mood for a calzone instead of a pizza and a large pie arrived dripping with cheese i would be balling. I guess this has more to do with youthful spoiledness and lack of temperance but none the less it was giving my tear ducts good practice for my teen angst years.
As i grew older, hormones took over and relationships developed. My first relationship was in 6th grade to a girl named Catie. Catie was awesome, she was a grade older and the most popular girl in school which made it that much more exciting for me. I was a lil punk kid who wore tie dyed shirts, ripped jeans, skull earrings and hair down to his chin. I was the spitting image of Edward Furlong in T2. Catie introduced a plethora of new emotions to my psyche that i was certainly not ready for. Feelings of crazy excitement, happiness, joy were quickly replaced with insecurity, doubt, confusion. Many saturday nights would end in a screaming match followed by the inevitable sunday night 6 hour phone call that would smooth things over. We cried alot and after 6 months we ended it. My first real infatuation, over.
Of course, with all of this mellow drama the bigger issues started to surface and blew full storm sometime in high school. I cried all the time. Eventually these issues were dealt with and i was convinced that crying was a healthy way to purge myself of these emotions. Just not too much.
Now that im an adult (relatively) the tears come less frequently, if at all. In fact i cant remember the last time i had a good cry. I remember having a moment in college but that was roughly 6 years ago. 5 years ago i had a panic attack and was hospitalized in Australia after what some might call a near death experience (more like the sensation of). I was sitting in the back seat of the car with three friends driving along the coast outside Byron Bay on the way back from the hospital. The sea was the bluest id ever seen it and the sun was beating down on my face and the wind was in my hair. I remember being really cognizant of the elements and appreciating them more like most people do after a traumatizing experience. But i didnt cry. I tried to cry, i thought it would be appropriate. But i couldnt do it. Nothing came out. I dont know if that means anything.
Now once in a while a tear might come out but its fleeting and usually for good reasons, out of joy. I found myself watching a movie last month (embarrassingly i will admit a romantic comedy) and the couple came together at the end and i laughed and got teary eyed. I wonder if thats the natural progression of the emotional release. When youre younger and unable to digest complex emotional reactions youre liable to cry more often, and when youre older, after youre seasoned ... it changes. Obviously this is not true for everyone. So i guess i wonder if ive become more emotionally closed off or just more capable at coping with the emotional elements. I like to think the latter... hopefully.
