When Scott was four, he cried because he couldn’t go to Disney World.  When Scott was seven he cried after getting a shot. When Scott was twelve he cried when he didn’t make the soccer team. Scott has always cried about everything big and small. Classmates called him a “crybaby” or told him to “Grow up”, and because of that Scott resented how much he cried, but on this day he would have given anything to shed even a single tear. This day was different, with the piercing smell of sterilizing disinfectants captivating his nose and the unbearably white walls provoking his every thought. All he knew was that he hated this place and hated this moment. Everything was too. Too clean. Too quiet. Too calm. The walls were blank, barren, and bitter, similar to how Scott felt inside. When you have felt how Scott was feeling at this juncture, the thing you want most in the world is to cry. Crying is painfully underappreciated, it is one of those things that you don’t miss until it’s gone. In the past, when Scott cried she felt a million emotions surging through every part of her being all at the same time. But right now he felt nothing. He wasn’t happy, he wasn’t sad, he wasn’t mad, he wasn’t empty, he wasn’t numb, and he wasn’t anything. Scott now realized that the truth about crying is that it makes you feel something, and feeling something is always better than feeling nothing.