i wept giant tears as i laid on my couch reading my book, letting the tears dry on my face without wiping them away. i cried like a little girl, no wait, i cried as only a grown woman can, who truly understands the words she's reading. that is against my instincts. as a pre-teen i tried to be very tough, i wouldn't permit myself to cry over such things. weeping at real-life stories or fiction was my mom and sister's thing. they were the criers, i was the impenetrable one. but that's been changing, and i don't want to hold back anymore. you know when you get that feeling in your throat and you just want to give in to the impulse to cry because you find something so touching? i want that to come more freely and to not fight it anymore. some may look upon that with disdain as i once did, but that's their misfortune.
perhaps i have no subliminal messages. maybe things are exactly as they seem.
how can i say what i don't know.
6 comments:
And, obviously, more socially unacceptable for a man to cry. Sometimes I wish I had a legitimate reason for a deep gut-cry.
very true. now are you looking for a legimate reason to gut-cry in public or in private?? i think anything goes in private. in public is a little trickier, but keep your eyes open and i'm sure you'd find something ;)
Watching videos on YouTube of American soldiers being reunited with their families after being in Iraq had the tears flowing for me the other night.
After I recovered I had a hot cup of tea and sat around in my pajamas and realized that there are few better feelings than that. I felt all warm and empty and thankful and a little puffy around the eyes.
what's the book?
matthew cuthbert's death gets me every time...
the part that really gets me is when marilla tells anne that she loves her as dearly as if she was her own flesh and blood.
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