There’s something to be said about the good long cry after watching a nice movie, or better yet, a heart wrenching read.
But you know what? I understand that you don’t get it. Just as I don’t get why you laugh at what must make you sad (hereby, you’ll be referred to, as the laughing fellow, for simplicity sake!)
There’s a person, whose life is unfolding before you on the screen or in the pages of a book, and he/she is going through a real bad time. How can you laugh at that!? I don’t get you. You don’t get me. We’re even! Why can’t you leave it at that?
Oh, laughing fellow, tell me, don’t you have better things to laugh at? Is life your life devoid of humor that you must find it in my crying face! Can’t you lend me your shoulder? Well, guess what, that’s all good and fine. I don’t want it, in any case. You may roll your eyes at my gibberish. I am nothing, if not reasonable! Hah!
All I want is time . . . time to cry watching or reading something that touches my heart.
Laughing fellow, you think of yourself as a creature of rationale, than you ought to let me be. You should know I’d cry, come what may. Okay, maybe if asked at gunpoint to not cry, I’d willingly comply (Cry-comply, that rhymes, Whoopee!). Other than that there’s really not much which can prevent me from doing so.
In good conscience, I’d grudgingly admit to the fact that I can cry at the drop of the hat. No big deal there, considering I once cried, near-hysterically, when a girl died at the end of a horror flick. Mind, I cried not out of fear, but heartbreak. She died, I cried! (Second rhyme, double whoopee!) Then again, let’s not talk about it. It’s a mite embarrassing, if you get what I mean.
Where was I? Oh, yes! Me and my crying! I may hate the character as such, but if something sad or bad or synonym of sad-or-bad happens, it my heart’s choice to shed a tear or two. Okay, more like buckets. But that’s beside the point.
Wondering what the hell is the point? It’s really simple, laughing fellow: the child in me dislikes seeing tragic things happen.
Not that I only cry at tragedies. I cry happy tears, too. When something really nice happens, I bawl my eyes out because it’s so overwhelming, you see. But that’s just where the problem lies. You don’t see. I can’t reckon what’s worse. That or your lack of trying!
Never mind, I have a question! You read, don’t you? On second thoughts, no need to answer. Of course you do, after all you’re reading this! Silly me! Tell me, what happens when you read? Oh, and by the way, my question is in context of reading books, not articles.
So, yeah, what are the exact motions you go through when you read? Does the book grab you by the throat, after the initial interest has been built? When you read fiction, do you feel like you’re into the book? Like the characters are people you know and you’re a bystander as the chapters of their lives turn over? I do.
Perhaps it’s because I get too involved that it takes me time to get un-involved, so to speak. And by the time I’ve unwound myself from the story my eyes are puffy and my nose red.
Is that my fault? Hell, no. It’s just the child in me! Blame her!
The child is grumpy, mind you. She doesn’t like her reading/watching session to be interrupted. She says between spending time with you and a book; book wins, hands down. If you interrupt her when she’s lost in her virtual world, she’ll come after your blood. Swords in both hands and murder in her eyes, she’ll charge at you, bellowing her war-cry. What can I say but that she takes after me in her violent outbursts! There are no half-ways for her, my dearest laughing fellow.
Does that stop you, laughing fellow, from laughing at her? Nope!
She once made the grave error of watching a sad movie with you as a companion. Damn you, laughing fellow, for ruining the movie for her. Just when tears well up, and are on verge of falling down, you say something funny about something-not-so-funny done in the movie. How the hell do you expect her to not get distracted? Damn you, can’t you let her cry in peace! Would it cause you indigestion if you not offer your two cents, uncalled for as they are, when a character says something melodramatic and cheesy?
It’s not the words, dearest, that matter. It’s the feeling they convey. Don’t you know a sad movie is not her worth if she doesn’t make you cry? Are you going to be rude and lessen her worth? Think of the effort that goes behind the scene. If you can’t, at least let us, the faint hearted romantics, do so. It’s easy, you know, to not find the movie funny. All you’ve got to do is not watch/read. See, that isn’t hard, is it? Can’t help yourself, well, no worries. I have a solution to both our problems. Why don’t I let the child in me loose and wreck havoc with your brains with her incessant chatter. Mind, she can talk, on anything and everything. For as long as she deems fit, she can ramble. She can make you want to kill yourself! Try her!
Do you, really, want that to happen? Of course not! You are, all things said and done, a creature of rationale, and understand the significance of self preservation. If, in case, you continue laughing at what-ought-to-make-you-just-a-little-sad, I take it you aren’t a creature of rationale, rather a creature that thrives on imprudence.
Are you that creature, laughing fellow?
PS: No offence to the laughing fellow! Dare you take any, lest the child in me start crying! Now, that wouldn’t be nice, would it? So we’re decided. No one takes offence.
PPS: Allow me, dearest laughing fellow, to damn you! Nothing personal!