When I see other people in pain, I cry.
Sometimes I cry when something is too beautiful to just say it.
I cry when people reconcile.
Something as small as a beautiful voice can make me cry.
Being angry makes me cry.
Getting yelled at makes me cry.
Sometimes people will snap at me and I’ll wait until they are gone, then I’ll cry.
Loving people makes me cry.
Good music, and wonderful poetry make me cry.
I cry when I’m proud of someone.
Encouraging words make me cry.
I cry when I’m overwhelmed.
Sometimes I even cry when I read sweet things.
I’ve probably cried during every book I’ve ever read.
I’ve cried because of things, I myself, have written.
Movies are my Kryptonite. Whether it be tears of laughter, joy, or sadness.
So basically I cry a lot.
But I’m not even ashamed of it.
I cry because things are important to me. Relationships matter. People matter. Music matters.
I have empathy so strong, I cry for fictional characters when they are wronged.
I’m a sensitive person.
But I’m strong when it counts.
Like when someone yells at my best friend and expects to get away with it.
Or when I slip down the stairs and receive a huge purple bruise on my butt.
I’m someone people can laugh with, and cry with, or just be real with.
I wouldn’t change who I am for anything.
I’m just glad that I’ve finally gotten to this point.
The point where I know that even when I cry, I am beautiful.