Drops of salty water

Why have I always underrated crying?

For years I had this strong-girls-don't-cry trend going, forcing myself to believe that the sight of tears on Poshgit's face would somehow reduce her standing in the eyes of the beholders around her. That if people saw me cry, it would be the last barrier breached, the one that confidently proclaimed to the world that she, like everyone other normal human being, also cried.

Of course, it's not like I never did. I just didn't very often. And I hated -oh, well, still hate- to let people see or know when my lachrymal glands are in overdrive. Who doesn't, I know I know. But for a long time, crying to me was just something silly, ugly, annoying, and a waste of time.

That was before the headaches.

The headaches that arrive from trying soo hard to control your tears that they collect in your vitreous chambers and brain cavities and come really close to causing hydrocephaly. The headaches that kept yelling in shrill siren voices: you need to cry, you need to cry. The headaches that make you realise that those Miss Worlds and Oscar winners actually have a point.

And so, I started crying.

First, not that regularly. Then, with a regularity that was, surprisingly, not-so-alarming. And I've been crying ever since. And here's why I strongly recommend it. And this is in many ways an attempt to re-convince myself on the benefits of a good sob :)

Crying is good. Because sometimes everything doesn't have to make sense all the time, and you'd rather just let the floodgates open rather than think too much. Because thinking too much can also make you cry sometimes, and well, that's not too bad a thing either. Because it really is a kind of release, in a very literal sense. Because quite simply, crying isn't always a bad thing. I mean, apart from those marathon ones that drag themselves out over anything from 24 hours to a whole week, I'm actually oddly glad that the tiny tears can come just as easily. The ones during movies, listening to a song, or twisting a muscle. These days, I don't give a $%^$. Just cry you stupid woman, I tell myself. And I do. And it helps.

And it's good to finally, finally actually admit it :)

P.S. Those marathon ones? They don't make you feel the greatest, and the consequences are especially annoying, since the whole world wants to know -with concern on the furrowed brow- 'Why did you cry??!'

And in such times, hey, what could possibly be better than to cry more!!! Viva la rasgones :)