I love the depth of analysis and emotional integrity — it takes guts.
I cry every time I watch Dead Poets Society. And Good Morning Vietnam. Or maybe it’s just Robin Williams — I also cried when he died (although some of that was pure selfishness: here’s this guy who brought so much joy to so many and it wasn’t enough to keep him going, while I haven’t done jack shit).
But I digress. I’m not much of a crier (despite prior evidence to the contrary) and I don’t cry for joy. I think you’re fine. I cry in words; maybe you do too?
Side note: Corporal Shitstain is a great name. So glad you escaped his clutches!