In the morning

When you throwup in the morning after you've been sleeping, it's orange. When your nerves get the best of you and your mind makes you run into the bathroom and start retching, it's thick like maple syrup. All the snot that's been draining into your stomach is flopping around with no food or drink to calm it. It's the most bitter taste in the world. It's nothing to be scared of, nothing you're not used to.

When it first started 5 years ago then it was a bit scary. A doctors visit later it's confirmed that theirs nothing physically wrong with you. It's all in your head. You're crazy. You should talk to a therapist. You worry too much. Your mind is making you ill. It's your fear of changing your daily routine. It's your mind thinking your plane to Seattle is going to crash. It's thinking your not going to get the job. It's that you have to drive 13 hours today to get home. It doesn't happen to normal people. They adapt. They adjust. 5000 years ago, you'd be a victim of natural selection. The lion would have killed you while you were wretching in the bushes.

Then it goes away for a while. You're fully entrenched in a routine. Nothing to bother you. You're still crazy. It's just hidden below. You still can't urinate if there aren't dividers in the men's room. Even if there are, if a dude is standing next to you, you get stage fright. Look on the bright side, you're not vomiting into the urinal. You wish for that moment of clarity you only get for a few seconds every so often.

You got one today. You saw it's heart beat. You heard it. You saw the screwed and chopped sine wave. It was perfect. For that second, life was perfect. The nothingness in your stomach was gone. Your gut wasn't rumbling. You threw off this mortal coil for that brief moment, the tired tattooed flesh. Then your eyes clouded up and you got slammed back into your body. For a good reason. Not to vomit. Not to feel uncomfortable, but to be happy.