Growing Pains

I read <a href="">David</a>'s <a href="">entry on crying</a>, or rather the male's lack of it.
I have to confess that I cry naturally. When a movie or story touches me, I allow myself to be swept up in it. The feeling of reckless emotional abandon leaves me breathless and I cling on to every moment within the moment, allowing my parched soul the pleasure of feeling alive again.
In recent years it has become harder to cry. I've grown more "objective" and less emotional, or so the grown-ups would have me believe. The truth isn't half as pleasant: Like them, I've stopped growing and started dying.
I've learnt that trust can be given, but never in entirety. The people we vote into power lie to us constantly. The integrity of journalism is non-existent. I'm no longer affected by sob-stories drummed up by the media. These days I just walk away shaking my head at the exploitation that takes place whenever one of these sensationalised stories are brought to us.
Yet I pen my thoughts daily in the hope that some of you out there will weep with me every now and then. I only pray that I hold true to you, and to myself.

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