Mainly on the Plane

The condition:

You see, I have this condition. It's kind of weird, and I don't like to talk about it.

I cry.

I know what you're saying, "Everybody Hurts, everybody cries."

Not like this. I cry constantly. I simply can't stop. I have to drink three gallons of water every day so I don't dehydrate.

I keep a hankie to dab my eye with. I don't remember exactly how it started. It just did. Can't stop it. I look, people say, like I'm weeping constantly. As if I never finished mourning the deaths of my parents.

People ask me about it mostly when I ride next to them when we fly together. Sometimes I tell them that my tear drainage duct, which runs from your eye into your sinus cavity, is clogged. So that when my eyes make tears, which we all do to lubricate our eyes in the sockets and keep them moist. That's only the physiological answer. They can fix it with a simple probe, minor surgery. But that didn't work with me. Probes can't penetrate the wall. The Dr. says it's got something to do with the bones being irregularly shaped in my face.

The people who know me closest still can't tell when I'm really crying. This has its bonuses. I can go to the movies, and because I'm a wuss, I can cry at the end of the film, as in being sad, and my friends think it's my condition.

I can't help it. Whenver someone says "I love you," and seems to mean it, something lets go inside. Whenever someone loses another person, I go gooey. Emotional heartstrings are tugged easily in any direction.

This is my condition.


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