As they dragged me out of a warm, kind and protective womb 41 years ago, I was offered the box of chocolate that is called life and I took it obediently, ignorant about the inside and at the same time opened my eyelids to the world, screaming wildly.
So crying was my first experience in life. I cried when I was hungry or felt cold or uncomfortable and I got pampered, was cuddled and taken care of as best as possible.
By instinct I knew those tears were a good signal to make others aware of my basically urgent needs.
While growing up I began feeling ashamed of crying; I felt uneasy and embarrassed of showing my inner emotions even behind the closed door.
At the later years, little by little I learned hiding those precious pearls, those tears. I kept hiding those jewels until I lost trace of them completely.
Now there are times I feel the absence; times I feel like an overflowing bottle with the lead sealed and fastened tightly; there are times I desperately need my tears back. Maybe I will find those tears back again soon before the box of chocolate comes to end.
