I cry a lot. Definitely more than most people. I googled “What is the median amount of crying a person does in a week?” I was actually very surprised by the results. Often, I will google something random like that just for kicks, not expecting to receive anything of value in terms of results. Just any random thought. “How many dogs are Buddhist?” or “Which leg is best leg?” Sometimes I’ll just make up a phrase to see if it exists. I’ll search “Mac and cheese covered knees?” and be pleasantly surprised to find this. I’m not sure why I do it(That’s not true) I just like, wait what? Okay, so why do I do it?…Hello? Why interrupt and then just, I don’t know, fuck off like that? I was trying to get something out. And there should be a space between the first parenthesis and the last thing I sai(The lack of space is intentional). Sure. Anyway I google random things sometimes I guess as a way to distract my mind from torturing me. Because it tortures me. Too many thoughts. Unwanted thoughts and feelings. Hence the crying. It helps. I suppose any distraction would.

There apparently have been a few studies done regarding crying and the frequency with which it occurs. You’ll find post like these on Reddit and Quora where people pose the question to the community. This recent article from Futurism.com has a relevent headline but less relevant content and cites a questionable study done with a very small sample size. I did find(Find? It was a 1st page result) one, please stop. I found, easily, this article from the American(Gross) Psychological Association that cites this study from 2011 conducted by Professors from Tilburg University in the Netherlands and a Researcher from The Netherlands Organization for Applied Scientific Research. This study surveyed over 7000 people across 37 countries.

Much of the data in the study falls in line with stereotypical expectations. Women cry far more often than men, for example. This remains true across cultures. The patriarchy is almost everywhere, and the patriarchy does not allow men to cry. Neurotic people cry more often. Also not surprising. Depressed people cry more, though anecdotally some individuals may reach a level of depression where they lose the ability to shed tears. I think that’s Super Saiyan Blue.

Somewhat interesting to me were the findings that showed the greatest difference between men and women’s crying habits were found in more affluent countries. The greater the access both genders have to resources the greater the disparity. That’s right BOTH. JUST TWO. Remember this study was from 2011 and it cites studies even older, and everyone one knows Trans people were not invented until 2014 when Tony Stark built them in a cave. With a box of scraps!

So the more wealth you have and the the more womanness you have the more you cry. Womanosity. Womanivity. Womf. Womfness.

I find it funny that those conducting the study were confused at the disparity in wealthier countries. Countries with more subjective freedoms and equality. Safe countries. They had predicted the larger disparity would be from less modern cultures. All their data was self reported, and they reasoned that the more ‘modern’ cultures were less likely to be influenced by cultural norms, seeing as their norms were looser. Or more forgiving of men crying. There is greater tolerance for crying in western societies. That is the belief. “Women in non-western countries perhaps show more normative control in the inhibition of their emotional expressions” is what they say regarding the impact of cultural norms.

I was sidetracked. I cry more than most. The study said women cry 30-64 times a year. Men 5-17 because men are liars.

I cry 4-5 times a week. 208-260 times a year. How? I have no wealth. I have no womf. Why do I cry? I’m sad. Many things make me sad. And many things make me cry as a result of that sadness. I usually feel better after a cry, but recently it has not produced that effect. No relief for me.

It is hard for most to understand, I assume, but happiness is a choice. If you are young this will make sense when you are older. You have to choose to be happy. In this modern society, the way the world functions, the way we are conditioned, you have to choose it. It’s hard to do.

Most people, it seems, feel that happiness is something that comes to them. It is the result of something. Some event or occurrence comes along, and bestows happiness to you. But it is subjective. What brings joy to you will most certainly bring misery to some other. As you age, the idea of hope and betterment recede away. There is only existence. You see humanity, and how humanity is, how it operates and you’ll realize that there will never be the peace and equality that you dreamt of. The world will never come together. Most people in the west will never fight for the betterment of the world. We are very individualistic, and we cry more.

So you have to choose happiness. You have to choose to feel it because the world will never give it to you. Take America for example. Many left leaning people will acknowledge that systemic racism is a thing because it IS a thing. The system, the society that everyone there tries to enjoy was designed to benefit only white people, and primarily the weathy. It was designed that way and then never changed. And the people there, the white people, will never change it. Because they benefit from it, and dismantling the system would be too inconvenient for them. It is a bit better here but not by much. 

And this is true for most of the world, particularly since American culture is their biggest export. They have influenced the world with their terrible values. So for POC like myself how do we live in a world like this? One that will never treat us as equals? How can one possibly be happy in such a world?

You choose it. Because otherwise you are miserable then you die. You can fight but it is pointless. They will never give up a society that benefits them, even if it means others suffer greatly. We have seen this.

I’m just not good at choosing it lately. Whenever I write like this I get a strange headache and I often regret everything I’ve written. I don’t think I’ve made any point the way I intended to make it. I don’ think I’ve been coherent. I have to remind myself that no one is reading this, and that I can say whatever because nothing matters. And that is more freeing than it is sad. That’s an example of choosing happiness.