I don't think I've actually thrown up since I was about 12. Maybe younger.

But sometimes, sometimes I really wish I could just throw up and eject all the crappy feelings that have accumulated over a particularly shitty week. They all eventually settle somewhere below my solar plexus, just begging to be blarfed out, but it never happens.

To me, vomiting, no matter how gross it may seem, is the quintessential metaphor for getting rid of something that makes me unhappy. Whenever someone invades my personal space in a way I don't like, I threaten to throw up on them. Whenever I'm having a pants day, I go up to a friend and make a 'Blarf' noise.

I think it all ties back to a childhood desire to have some tangible form of the problems I'm dealing with. If I could pick up something, and say "this is all of my discomfort at having to take my finals" and then just chuck that damned thing over a bridge or something, life would be so much easier.

Unfortunately, simplifying things like that just doesn't seem to work, so I guess I'm just stuck with riding it out like everyone else.

That said, I have some finals to study for. Excuse me while I mime some vomiting. Blarf.