Why is writing about fucked up things supposed to make one feel better about their situation when things go drastically wrong? I know, I know. Writing is like venting, regurgitating, but it feels so vomitous and bile filled. Why should one share their vulnerability with others? Or perhaps, if the product is meant for the writer's eyes only then what would it accomplish? Am I supposed to learn from these dark moments by reliving them over and over again?

Then again I always feel a little better after puking up the food that's poisoned me; so in comparison perhaps I'll feel a little better after realizing my feelings in black and white. However, I am concerned about becoming bitter by belching my feelings onto paper.

And if I do share some feelings with others aren't I only looking for some pity or sympathy? Or am I waiting for some one to speak up claiming to "have my back" and offer to "slash their tires". Is that supposed to make me feel better, warmer, loved?

The bottom line is we as individuals are alone in our experiences even if we're standing side by side when the car runs us down. I can't even get close to sharing my true experience, and I know this is existential bullshit, but we all know it's true. Don't get me wrong I'm not unappreciative of those friends who will listen to my problems and offer me advice, an ear, a shoulder, or simply to "have my back". It's just that I still feel like shit and now somebody else knows I'm feeling shitty; what did that achieve?

Thanks for listening-- or reading this that is. Actually, thanks for letting me vomit words into your brain.