Some people believe that in a crowded place, say a train station or a crowded city crossroad, there is a good possibility that a portion of them are ghosts, or spirits. In one case or so, that is true.
Everybody has an equal amount of time. 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. As clear as that is, many people don’t seem to believe it.
We become sad. At times. And we feel the most sadness when we start to tear up and cry. We cry when we are left alone at school, or when we hit ourselves over the head with a ball as a child. We cry when we fly alone to go to college. We cry when we receive a first heartbreak. And a second, and a third.
It’s ridiculous and useless when you think about it. Nothing really gets accomplished. But why do it? Why do we cry?
This is not going to be one of those psychology posts that explains scientifically why you cry, no. But deep down, you’re bound to know why you are crying, even without the scientific terms and jargon. And even if when people coerce you to tell them why, you don’t.
We cry to let people know that we are not okay. We are in pain, we are overwhelmed. And some kind of reassurance that everything is going to be okay is the expected response to the listeners. It’s kind of both a convenience and inconvenience if you think about it, there really is just no way to hide what you’re feeling unless you are really good at hiding them.
But nowadays, it doesn’t happen that way, where people express an immediate response of empathy. People are being conditioned that crying is weak, and unappealing. Even women are not supposed to cry, in this age of feminism and women empowerment. Men are not exempted of this fact, even if women express that they love a man who can cry. And no, sweating through your eyes is not going to cut it.
We are supposed to strong independent individuals and we need to appear that way even if the darkest corners of your heart are craving for a good cry, a good shout that “Hey! I need some help!”
Because we are supposed to be strong. We are supposed to be strong enough to face whatever challenges overcome us.
We are supposed to be fine. I cannot stress enough how bad that simple word appears. We have ended up in a world where people are only allowed to cry behind closed doors. Only to the closest of people that you know will empathize, and even those are already so hard to find.
We cry to let people know we are not okay. When we don’t, people will just pass by and think that we are, even if we are not.
And people will just pass by.
And feelings will be left unheard.
And you walk on, and you say that one line to yourself once more.
A few months ago, I found myself in our local national museum. The first time I had seen the advert for free admission I immediately knew that I wanted to go. My companion, who I’ve asked to come with me, asked me why I wanted to go.
“I like old things.”
“Study broadly and without fear.”
Nearing graduation, and seeing everyone else’s graduation flash before your eyes, is kind of an awakening.
There is always this one instance where you kind of regret something you’ve done. Knocking over a glass of milk on the carpet, skipping breakfast then becoming extremely hungry by lunch, or even sometimes, larger events with larger consequences. There is always that nagging wish to return to what was been. At least for me, anyways. But of course, we have to face the horrible truth…
I never really saw myself as an attractive person. In today’s standard of beauty, I could never have that confidence. But I guess this goes for all girls that care a significant amount about how people see them physically. It’s one of those things that are supposed to be looked at inwardly, something you complain about alone while looking at a mirror, but given the free-communications of the Internet, we can find that “why am i so…” on Google will bring up my point.
It’s been one of my long standing opinions that beauty is arbitrary. “In the eye of the beholder,” and all that. But sometimes, you can’t help but notice the small imperfect things about your physical appearance, that we feel a little… “too”.