For a while, when I was little, I thought John Lennon was part of my family. There were like 3 or 4 pictures of him around the house so his face became so familar to me that I would sometimes confuse him with my dad.
I cried over spilled milk. I know people keep saying not to do that, but it was chocolate soymilk so I think the rules are different there.
I didn’t actually cry though, I just complained.
I don’t want to live in a world where being emotional is seen as a weakness.