Last Time I Cried

            When I was young, I thought that crying was something that only weak people do. In the elementary school, for example, fights between boys always ended up with crying of weaker sides, and the stronger ones never cried. Girls who were watching horror movie – they always cried out of fear. Or those who were severely scolded by teachers always burst their tears at the end. Certainly, crying was a sign of weakness. Crying was surely a sign of humiliation and shame. That’s perhaps why I thought I must not cry before others.

             Until my high school life, I thought so.

             It was when I was junior at high school. As all know, a high school junior year is perhaps one of the most challenging times in one’s childhood life. I was no exception. Bombarded with enormous amount of workloads and assignments, I struggled to manage the tasks given to me. Teachers wanted me to maintain good grades and test scores, so I had to complete my presentation and team project for literature class, work on my term paper for history class, and finish my research project for Physics thesis. At the same time, seniors wanted me to actively join debate practice sessions and student press activities, which made me really hard to manage my schedule as a whole. Upcoming concerns for college admission which my friends just started to talk about also disturbed me. Above all, with all of these workloads, too much for seventeen-year old, combined, I couldn’t find what I should do and where I can complain about this.

             So I just cried. Of course, I didn't cry in front of my roommates, because I knew that crying was a sign of weakness, and I didn’t want to show my weak side to my roommates. I went to the bathroom, crouched on the toilet, and then, burst my tears. Perhaps it was a cry out of my stress, or so-called, high-school life pressure. There was no person to rely on in the dormitory; I couldn’t go back to my parents for months. Feeling loneliness, I wept for a while, then. I thought, nobody would hear my crying.

             After that, I came out of bathroom, and sat in front of my desk. I returned to my assignments, as if nothing had happened in the bathroom. But this time, my roommate came to me, as if he knew everything, and then quietly hugged me. I couldn’t bear the emotion coming out from my heart again. Perhaps he might have heard my weeping in the bathroom, I thought. But that wasn’t the point. The fact that my roommate was sympathizing with my tear - it did matter. And it was one precious cuddle that changed my viewpoints.

             Now I don’t think crying is a sign of weakness or shame. Crying makes people sympathize each other, or even, connect them. My junior year was full of new challenges, stresses, and pressure. I think that’s the same for all. But I don’t think it’s wise to endure them alone. For me, crying was a secret outlet to express my pressure, but at the same time, made me realize the value of those who’re around me.