I never cry in movies. Never. Often, I am deeply moved, intellectually stirred, or emotionally jarred. But my eyes refuse to spill their tears.
Except for tonight, when I went to perhaps the happiest movie in the theaters right now, Tangled. It's Disney; it's a princess; it's true love. What could be sad about that?
The true love part. Because after asking two guys out in two days and getting two "I'm busy"s, a girl's heart is only so far from the edge of breaking.
And her heart definitely can't take it when a girl who lived her whole life in a tower falls for the first guy she EVER meets and captures his heart, too. All in two days.
And her heart doesn't like it when those same two share a perfect gondola ride with magic lanterns everywhere. That's when she starts to cry. At the happy parts. Because they seem so foreign, ethereal, unobtainable, distant, mocking. And sad.