Every time I start to cry, I think, “wow, I’m going to cry, and I never cry, so this is great!” and then I think, “wait, now I’m thinking about how I’m going to cry so wouldn’t crying be fake?” and then I think “but I want to cry” but then I can’t cry because I’m already – before I’ve managed to start – three or four thoughts away from whatever it was that was going to make me cry in the first place. I can double back on it, but then I just feel a sort of melancholy impotence, an inability to change the world and bring it in line. I suffer from a lack of perspective. I went nearly seven years without crying in high school and college.

The last episode of Six Feet Under just made me cry.

I don't mean to suggest that it made me misty, or foggy, or bleary-eyed. I wept. I bawled. I choked and cried and sobbed and it hurt my throat.

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