Five years ago.
It was five years (and four months, if you're picky) ago that I last really cried. I've cried since, sure, but not with as much soul as I did then.

I cried in a drunken rage as I fell into the road, finally unable to control myself after the hardest day that I had been through up to that point in my life. I pulled myself to the curb and wept into my hands while my friends were buying friday night food. Some girls came up to console me, but for once I was not in the slightest bit interested.

Five years and four months ago, Eddie died. He was not my best friend, but I only because I knew that I was not his - there were other people much closer to him than I and they deserved to bestow that particular honour. That said, he was a great chum, and a great chum to many.

I wept for him more than I wept for my grandparents. In truth, I guess I was closer to him than I was to they. Without fail he could bring laughter, and his incessant friendliness was shown that night, when so many people gathered to say goodbye as only seventeen year olds can.

That night was the last time I cried, and I think, possibly the first as well.

Sorry for length, but I had to vent.
(Captain Skippy pooed in a bag and left it on your doorstep, Thu 14 Apr 2005, 19:12, Reply)