Sometimes, I love crying

Some+of+the+people+and+moments+that+make+me+happy.

Some of the people and moments that make me happy.

For what feels like a few times in my life, I have been blessed with the experience of tears of happiness. They are a peculiar thing that I can’t quite grasp; the entire time they spill down my cheekbones and pool in the crevice below my lower lip, I can’t escape from wondering why they even exist.

It is so strange to me how two completely opposing emotions can produce identical outcomes. However, when fueled by anger and grief, my face steams and my chest falls. When joy and relief are the cause, I can’t help but let the edges of my mouth pull up across my tear-stricken persona.

I’m not one who cries easily. While in the comfort of my own space, away from the prying eyes of others, I allow myself an escape to break down, but when accompanied by anyone—apart from my Mom—I find the action places me in a vulnerable state. 

Idiosyncrasies and discrepancies peer through the two states of emotion resulting in tears other than this, of course. One separates itself making it difficult to understand. I manage to contain my anger through silence and a front of an expression. Happiness, in turn, seeps through like the crack of light through the inch left uncovered from your bedroom blinds. It is impossible for me to withdraw from this reaction.

Happiness, in turn, seeps through like the crack of light through the inch left uncovered from your bedroom blinds. It is impossible for me to withdraw from this reaction.”

It is upsetting to admit the gaping space between the times I am pushed to tears from angst and joy. But while sadness is the culprit much more frequently, nothing is as glorifying as that of happy tears. I wouldn’t trade the few moments I experienced them for much. 

When tears well in my lower lid, I can’t explain the relief that floods through my mind. 

I’m not what I would consider an emotional person. While I am in touch with myself to an appropriate degree, I don’t let myself reach an elated state of being frequently. However, when I find myself in this situation, I don’t feel the same vulnerability I do in usual tears. There is freedom to be found when overwhelming happiness is obtained.

I can’t explain my hesitancy towards the open expression of my feelings. Even in writing right now, I can’t help but question how I am being perceived. 

Yet, this simple display of utter joy is associated with absolutely nothing in my mind rather than bliss. I have no insecurity stuck in the cavities of this feeling. 

Viewing myself on a phone screen or mirror is shocking when I cry. In usual tears, I would choose to do anything rather than see the blotchy spotting enveloping the surface of my face. But when the tears come from a place of happiness, I can’t help but relish in the glow my face achieves. While the action is the same, my complexion seems to change. My delightful demeanor radiates; I just love this version of myself. 

These two completely separate identities I wear project two completely different masks. 

I resent sadness, and I adore this rush of happiness. However, I wouldn’t dismiss either. No, I don’t enjoy tears fead by sorrow, however, I can’t dismiss their positive attributes. Tears of happiness though, they stand as my most cherished possession.