With hot tears running down my cheeks I am trying to write to distract myself. My neck is wet from my emotions, my voice thick and heavy, and the tip of my nose painful from constant sniffing.
My family and I are currently watching the film Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, and I have been crying since the moment the film began. I feel exhausted by having felt sadness, anger and pain so forcefully in 90 minutes. Having felt emotions so strongly so quickly, I am now left feeling empty (and actually a little bit hungry…but that’s normal for me)
I have a want to write everyday-a need to prove to myself that I can- yet I can’t find the words inside me tonight. My emotions, inspiration and creativity have fallen away from me this evening, and I can’t conjure up the rise and fall of an anecdote, a rolling rant or review or an explanation on how my sister and I attempted a HIT workout today and couldn’t complete it due to our bodies aching with laughter (not aching from over exertion-we never work that hard)
Now it’s not a surprise that I’m crying at a film. I cry at adverts, at phone-in radio segments, when I see a cute cat or baby. I am a crier for other people. I can internalise someone else’s artificial pain when watching them on a screen, or when I see someone else cry when they’re re-telling or re-sharing, but I very rarely, -actually hardly ever- cry about my own problems.
Yet, it’s those horrible and unexpected bumps in the road, where someone decides to jump out of a moving car, despite you thinking that you were both headed to the same destination, and you’re left alone, unsure how you’re meant to drive the vehicle by yourself now that you have to take control, and suddenly you realise you read the map and all the signs wrong, that’s…that’s when I might cry.
If I am left to be alone, because someone realises they’ve got bored of the journey and that they no longer want me as a road trip companion, I will cry about them only once. I’ve cried four times in my life over being hurt by someone, and I’m still not ready to forgive those people for drawing those hot, disgusting, weak tears out of me. I don’t cry because I’ve been hurt a lot, but when I do I know I never want to feel like that again. I’d much rather cry over soldiers returning home to loved ones, families sharing pregnancy announcements or Noah wrapping Allie up in the red blanket when she chooses him, than I would due to someone disregarding me completely. I love happy tears. When your cheeks are aching from holding a smile you didn’t realise was there, and your hands are clasped together out of a want to hold this moment and your emotions in one place, when suddenly tears dance down your face, and you let yourself relax into the pure beauty of those magical minutes.
My eyes are now aching, and are in want of sleep and to dream of something other than the heartache of New York’s history. A deep cry has purged me of emotion and of my creativity. But I’m also glad of it. Sometimes you need a re-start, a cleanse, and a reason to try again tomorrow.
Oskar Schell: Only humans can cry tears. Did you know that?