I am a word vomiter but not in the Mean Girls accidentally-say-what-you-mean sense. I am a sometimes-bulimic introvert. I speak and eat for show or in some attempt to feel something. Then I try desperately to get it all out; to make it go away so that I can be comfortable and alone again.
I am a word vomiter in the sense that I regurgitate sounds just to make noise for you. I spill things out so that I do not have to feel sad. I laugh so that I do not hurt. I shrug that I am crazy so that I do not have to explain and, in the process, discover all that distance between us. I spit words on the ground (often with anger because I am short on laughs that day) and it is all I can do to keep from crying.
I am a word vomiter in the sense that I do not want to digest. I do not want to fully process all the implications of this action, that thought or those words. I want to puke them out in deflective anger or giggley apathy. I want to stop short of letting things get inside me. When I talk to you I will not swallow because I do not want your small aggressions to feed me. I will spit back in self-defense
This is not an apology or confession. This is an explanation for why you make me sick. This is to say that I find your ignorance unpalatable; that I do not always have productive conversations because I simply cannot stomach them. This is to say that I will stop spitting back only once you have offered something that will nourish me. I will then stop being loud and angry, but for now there is nothing left in me to share.
–E. L. Cole, Contributor
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