I did not cry when my grandpa died. I did not cry when my aunt died. I did not cry when my friend was murdered.

I did cry, sobbing like a little boy, when my dog was hit by a car and killed.

How messed up is that? Is there something wrong with me? The day my grandpa died a bunch of relatives came over to his house to grieve and do such things together. I was living in my grandpa’s camper that year of my life. My father had moved across the state to Seattle for a better job. My brother, mother and myself all lived in grandpa’s camper which was parked in his yard. Less than two weeks prior to his death my grandfather had been complaining of severe hip pain for at least six months but the doctors could not find anything wrong with him. Then, they found it. He had lung cancer which had spread throughout his body and into his bones, hence the hip pain. The doctors said he had months to live. Less than two weeks after he was diagnosed with cancer, he passed away. I will talk more about him at a later date. Back to the day he passed and the family gathering at his house. He had a small house and it was completely full of people. Some were quiet, solemn.  Some were crying and hugging each other. Some were laughing and sharing stories and memories. I was outside, sitting on the porch of his huge garage, which was a separate building directly behind his house. My uncle came out the back door and walked straight for me. I was spending most of my time outside because I did not feel comfortable in a room full of sad people. I stood up as he approached me and he hugged me and put his hands on my shoulders. He told me it’s okay to cry and asked if I had cried yet and that nobody inside had seen me cry. I was disturbed and annoyed that anyone was even paying attention to whether or not I cried. Who the hell’s business was it but mine? Why were they intruding on my personal space like that? I wanted to walk away but he had ahold of me by the shoulders.

I simply replied “no…”.

He got upset with me and shook me and asked what was wrong with me and why I was not crying? I could not find an answer for him. I just stood there being shaken and feeling extremely annoyed by the whole situation. I could not answer him that day and I still can’t today. I don’t know why I did not cry for my grandpa, who I was pretty close to. He was a WWII vet so he had lots of cool stories, knew every card game there was and he was a really good human being. Everyone loved him. Why did I cry over my dog and not for my relatives and friend? That was a bad year. A couple deaths in the family and bad luck happening to me all year long. My friend who I was secretly in love with got pregnant by another guy, her boyfriend. My best friend who had Type II diabetes was getting worse even at his young age. My other very good friend moved four or five states away. My $400.00 bmx bike which was a birthday present got stolen three months after I got it. My cousin built me a new bmx bike out of spare parts and it got stolen a month after she gave it to me. I got ripped off by a guy who I thought was a friend. Back then I smoked marijuana sometimes and my dealer was all out so I called my friend. He met me outside the grocery store and told me his dealer did not like new people so he would go get it and be right back. He never came back and when I called his house his sister said he was not home. I did not believe her. I called back and altered my voice a bit and told her I was Titan, my so called “friend” ‘s best friend. The son of a b*tch answered the phone and I confronted him. He staggered out some lame excuse and hung up the phone. He avoided me the rest of the year. Even though it was only over $40, the fact he would do that to me when we had hung out so many times really pissed me off. Why would you do that to someone you know? To someone you kicked it with quite a bit? Someone you had gone to school with for 10 years? I just didn’t get it. I still don’t. Back to my damn bikes, a year later I found out both of them were stolen by my friend. Someone I had spent many nights sleeping over at his place throughout our childhood, someone I skipped a lot of classes with. What the hell? He stole them and sold off the individual parts. I have never seen or talked to him again. That was 10 or 11 years ago.

Am I weird because I didn’t cry when they died? Is there something wrong with me because I cried my eyes out like a little baby when my freakin dog died?

I don’t know.