Throw-uppance

August 21st, 2007 by lynnylchan under Humour and My Life

Last emo post on this issue, I promise.

Crying is said to be like catharsis. A release of negative feelings, pent-up energy, yadda yadda. I prefer to think of it as emotional vomiting. No, that’s not at all like verbal diarrhoea. With diarrhoea, the effect’s a bit delayed. Not so with vomiting - it’s literally more visceral, uncontrollable.

As with vomiting, crying has 3 main stages. Before the act, you feel like shit. You need to get it out of your system, but either the time and place isn’t right, or the feeling isn’t quite strong enough. So it sits like a lead balloon in your stomach. Bleah. Most of your effort goes to holding it in, which is tiring enough in itself without the threat of an impending explosion.

Eventually, the feeling builds up. It’s going to climax in some amazing performances, either from stomach pyrotechnics or tear duct fountains. It overwhelms you, and you break out in spasms. Once you reach this stage, there’s nothing to do but to let it run its course. Your body is purging itself of toxins, so just let it all out. Of course you don’t look glamorous. Of course you feel like your guts are being ripped out of your body. Your heart has turned upon itself, a ravenous monster bent on self-destruction. But it goes on, until there’s nothing left to sustain the flow. Your stomach’s empty. You’ve cried your metaphorical heart out - you now feel numb. That’s at least preferable, for the moment, to sinking in depression.

Sometimes you feel like you haven’t got it all out. The feeling is still there in the pit of your stomach, even though retching brings nothing up, brings no relief. Sometimes you feel a twinge of pain when you see his name, pass by his house, or even recall the stupidest little details like his preferred type of deodorant. It’s okay. All this is just residual. Your body knows what to do, it’ll mop these bits of detritus up, and soon you’ll be fine. The worst is over. The porcelain god and ruler of the tissue box have accepted your offerings of vomit and tears.

Envy and regret have left their scars. Now it’s my turn to sharpen the knife, and its name is Indifference.