Vomiting
Earlier this week, I stayed home from work because I felt like vomiting. Luckily, I didn't. Now I feel like vomiting on my keyboard. Not in a puking-up-the-crappy-pizza-I-had-for-dinner kind of way, but in the spilling-my-guts-and-dumping-all-my-thoughts-out kind of way. It's what one of my favorite professors used to call a first draft. Vomiting on the keyboard. But this isn't a first draft. There won't be a final draft. There won't be revisions. I'm just spewing my thoughts into cyberspace. Maybe some of you care. Maybe you don't. But the thing is I have no idea what to say. I have all these thoughts and worries and insecurities swirling around in my head, and I don't know what to say. I wish I had all the answers. I wish I knew exactly how everything would work out. I wish life didn't all fell like one big risk. Like I jumped off the high dive and can't quite remember how to swim. Where are the life guards? What if I hit my head on something on the way down? What if I'm so battered and bruised by the time I hit the water that it hurts too much to move a muscle and I sink like a stone? What if I grab onto the person trying to save me and drag them down, too? I'm not making sense. I'm not quite sure what I'm saying. But I'm vomiting onto the keyboard and maybe it's making me feel a little bit better. Or maybe I just sound like an idiot.