Crying is so weird. For example, I'm having a normal boring night here. Which consists of me, scrolling through instagram, being envious over fake lives, searching for flights on Orbitz, trying to master my "eating chips in bed without getting crumbs in the sheets" skill, when suddenly I felt it. I felt this strange sensation overcoming me. Like, somewhere deep in my gut. I'm not sad. In fact, I've had quite a lovely weekend. I think sometimes, my body just absorbs all of this emotion and stress and craziness of life and I need an outlet. So I got myself a glass of wine and sat by the Christmas tree and allowed myself to cry for a little bit. Among the thoughts that crossed my mind: A. This tree, and home, are beautiful. My parents really did spend the past 35 years trying to build a ridiculously perfect Hallmark card of a life for us. My dad is retiring next year, and he can sit down and actually look at his life and be proud of what he's built. Wh...
You didn't think death would stop me from talking your ear off did you?