I have many a friend that can look attractive crying. Tears seamlessly fall down their cheeks and it’s sad, but borderline picturesque. A lovely tragedy. Their faces don’t puff up, no one asks them if they’ve had their lips injected and their eyes fail to swell shut, leaving their eyes peeping out of tiny slits in their faces. Their makeup doesn’t run and their chests don’t break out in itchy, red marks. No one asks them the following day if they look tired because their eyes have yet to re-open — baby hamster style. They simply cry.
I’m sincerely envious of these people. They have something I’ll only aspire to have.
It doesn’t matter if I’m crying out of frustration at a three hour commute, pain at losing someone, joy at a joke that almost made me wet my pants. I cry. And, look like a hot mess within minutes. Sigh.