I have recently become very interested in the workings of the human mind and the power of emotion. I, for one, am an emotional person. And by emotional, I mean the type of girl that will cry if you squeeze my stuffed animal’s head. This is serious. Don’t laugh.
I’ve always known I was emotional—it’s something I’ve learned to love about myself. Emotional people are the people who understand. Emotional people are the people who will leave you the last slice of apple pie, or will drive to the grocery store just to buy chicken to spice up your salad. Yes, I am one of those people.
There’s nothing wrong with a little tears now and then. There’s nothing wrong with a good cry. This is what I tell my boyfriend: Baby, a good cry makes everything better. He just shakes his head. For him, crying does nothing. The solution to any problem is concrete. Walk away, come back to it. Leave it be and it will work itself out. Logical, but not me. Sometimes I think this is why we compliment each other so well. Sometimes I’m afraid he’ll never understand why I tear up over crinkled notebook paper or bumping into a sidewalk curb with my front bumper. But I guess there’s still time.
It’s funny how two people find each other. It’s funny how people put up with each other’s inconsistencies. He doesn’t drink tap water and I hate cantaloupe. Small facts we’ve learned to accept about each other. He wipes a fat tear rolling down my cheek and tells me to suck it up. He may not understand all aspects of my sensitive side, but hey, he can make me laugh. And sometimes for an emotional person, a good laugh is just as effective as a good cry.