Crybaby

I used to be an actress, and back in college, I would have given anything to be able to cry onstage (and I certainly wasn’t the only one though no one would admit it). I know it sounds stupid and shallow, but to be able to be so in touch with your emotions that you’re that vulnerable onstage– we envied anyone we saw tearing up during a scene. I tried really hard to just be able to cry.

Curiously, I don’t think I’d find it that challenging anymore. Over the last year, I’ve started weeping over everything.

On my flight back from Italy I couldn’t sleep, so I watched 3 movies back to back. I swear every time the flight attendant came by to give me water I looked up with tear-filled eyes to cry-request sparkling water with no ice. I cried for almost the entire length of The Hunger Games: Catching Fire, and even cried during the comedy Enough Said when the daughter went to college. (I always cry when the kids go to college, it happened during Boyhood too). (I did not cry during Divergent, because it wasn’t good.)

In fact, I cry in almost every movie or play I see. I legitimately sobbed seeing Lady Day last week.

I cry everywhere, no matter whether I’m on the street, in a theatre, in the office, in the park, etc. (At least I live in NYC where everyone street-cries.)

I cry when I write a birthday card to my sister.

I cry when I watch a clip posted on Facebook of a baby hearing for the first time with the help of a hearing aid.

I cry when a friend tells me how she is trying to fight anorexia, but her health insurance won’t cover the treatment program she needs.

I cry when someone at work sincerely asks how I am doing because they really want to know.

I cry writing about crying.

I cry when I watch this So You Think You Can Dance clip.

I cry when I let myself really feel and acknowledge, for a minute, that I love this guy, and he really loves me back, and I’ve never experienced that before. And I guess that’s why I’ve become such a crybaby.

And I know it’s going to get 10 times worse when I have babies.

What makes you cry? Have you street-cried (because you’re really missing out on a NYC resident requirement if you haven’t).

 

(image Crying Girl by Roy Lichtenstein)

editor of Stonefruit, unreasonably fond of fresh Mediterranean figs, laughably frightened by jellyfish.

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