Recycled Writings

Forgive me, but it's summer, yo. Got things to do.

Is it a sign that something is terribly wrong with me if, while bawling my eyes out last night, I could stop, assess what was going on (in terms of the mechanics of crying) and say to myself "Hmm, this could be a good topic to talk about in my blog"?

I think it means I'm too obsessed about pleasing you guys.

Anyway.

When you think about it, we cry for the strangest reasons. We cry when we're happy, when we're sad (obviously), when hurt, when grieving, when angry, when disappointed, when afraid. What is it that makes your tear ducts swell up the minute your heart (or would that be the brain?) is broken?

Different people cry differently, I guess. Some are the loud and wailing types, and some are the sniffling and whimpering types while others are simply the quiet, tears-streaming-down-the-face type. After last night (nevermind WHY I was crying), I concluded that I'm a mixture of the sniffling/whimpering and quiet/tearsfallingdowntheface type.

Whatever pang of emotion that made you cry, when it first hit you, you grow quiet. As comprehension slowly sinks and the emotion slowly builds up, and your mind begins to envision the worst-case-scenarios, your throat will suddenly tighten up. Your heart races as your eyes begin to water and your nose gets blocked up. And then the tears start to fall. You try not to make a sound, but both your airways are blocked, so you gasp for air, but closes it up again (hence the sobbing sound).

You're blinking more rapidly now, your breathing is heavier and there's a sharp pain in your throat as you desperately try not to make it too obvious that you are crying, eventhough you are alone. As you direct your mind to wander off into something that would not make you so sad, you sniffle, clearing up most of the mucus that's blocking your nose. But the tears keep on coming. And it makes its journey down the contours of your cheeks, pausing at the small recesess that is the corner of your mouth, before dangling itself at the edge of your quivering chin. Your body is still, trembling a little, and your face feels hot.

You're suddenly fascinated by a pen that is lying on a shelf at the other end of the room. You focus on the pen, solitary as you are, as if that single pen could be your saviour, could be your comfort. Meanwhile, the waves of emotion keep on churning and you repeat the cycle of gasping for air, sniffling away the mucus and feeling the cool, wetness of the tears pooling below your mouth.

And then, just as sudden as it began, the tears stop. Your throat relaxes and you wipe you face with your hands. Still snifflling, you get up, rearrange your hair and try to dry off the stray tears. You feel better. You feel cleansed. There's a strange, but clean, fresh taste in your mouth. Your nose is still runny but it doesn't hurt so bad anymore. Your eyes are burning slightly and as you look at yourself in the mirror, you can see that they are red. You think of something that makes you laugh, and the last tear falls. You wipe it away, heave a sigh of relief that whatever was worrying you is momentarily gone and you wash your face. It's over. And you never felt this good in your life.

Crying is our first form of communication. Before we learned speech, crying was our means to tell someone that we are hungry, in pain, or we simply need some love and attention. Children are loud criers, screaming and yelling. I find it interesting that the older we get, the quieter we cry.

The reason we cry gets narrower as we grow older too. I used to cry when I got angry, but I don't anymore. Probably because I don't get angry as often as I did when I was younger. Movies didn't use to make me cry, but now I cry everytime a lover departs or a mother is left behind on the big screen. A scathing remark from a not-so-close-friend no longer tears me up, but a thoughtless, passing comment from someone I love could gear up my tear ducts.

I don't cry when I see other girls cry, but seeing a man hold back tears will choke me up. I thought a break-up could make me cry, but it didn't. I thought a friend's death could make me sob for hours, but only a few tears were shed and that was it. I don't want to think that I'm heartless, I guess I'm just not really a big crier. Plus, I don't believe in forcing the tears. The tears fall when they want to fall.

One thing hasn't changed though.

Nothing comforts you more than crying on somebody's shoulder. Bury your face in that small crook where the neck meets the shoulder, let the tears fall, feel the hands stroke your back, listen to the soothing voice and smile at the knowledge that someone still loves you.

First draft: February 12th 2003.

P/s: I wasn't crying about anything major, really. It was one of the last episodes of Oz. Silly, actually.