She thought she cried too much.
In her sadness and in her joy, she cried.
She thought it was funny.
How could two feelings at opposite ends of the emotive spectrum elicit the same physical response?
Her tears told stories, each droplet a word.
And each fell from her eyes in their due order, spelling out her successes and sorrows. Whenever she was emotional, you could read her like a book.
Sometimes she bathed in them.
Sometimes they were her last bit of sanity.
Sometimes they kept her centered.
When life tripped her up, causing her to fall, her skin to inflame, bruise and bleed, her tear ducts would release their side of the story.
So she thought she cried too much.
She thought she cried too much until she looked and saw others sporting their bandaids. She saw some people who were covered in them. Some had scars too big for bandaids to cover.
Then she knew that she cried just enough.
She knew it was ok. It was ok to cry.