Here is an admission: I am a purger. No – I’m not bulimic. This has nothing to do with food. I am an emotional purger. I cannot get over, recover, accomplish ANYTHING unless I get it out. Get it off my chest. And it has to be to someone – none of that “oh, just write it in a letter and then never mail it” shit. Nope – I am a full-force purger. If you break my heart or my best friends heart or the girl in front of me at the grocery store’s heart and I am there to bear witness…well, you’re going to hear about it. Frankly, you may hear about it more than once…cuz if I didn’t get it all out…I’m coming back. My last break-up lasted for about…ohh…two years. Yeah – when this bitch has something to say…she’s going to say it. On the plus side, I don’t have any of that “residual baggage”. Don’t get me wrong – my ass has baggage – but not of the ‘things left unsaid or undone’ variety. No ‘what if’s’ here. For the most part anyway…I’m trying to be better about my purging…upon recommendation of most of my friends who say I shouldn’t let myself go like that. They don’t want to listen to me gripe, they don’t want it to seem like anybody else has the upper hand, which I suppose it does if I’m doing the calling…I tend to vent onto my friends now instead of, let’s say, the ignorant fuck at the airport who yelled at my mother for double parking since she just didn’t know any better…previous Amy would have marched up and let him have it – but, mostly due to security being at Threat Level Orange – I held back and just bitched to my mother for 45 minutes about what I SHOULD have said. This helped. No…no it didn’t. That’s a lie. I can tell by the knot I feel in my stomach. That man deserved a talking to. Now I’ll be hanging on to that “unsaid” for…well…the rest of my life. I am a purger. I need to say it. I need to get my feelings out there. I don’t care if the phone calls appear to give ex-boyfriends the upper hand because it makes it seem like I still care…because, who the hell are we fooling, of COURSE I still care and I’d rather have that out there than be eaten alive for the rest of my life with words burning their way through my soul…and that is what happens. Sleepless nights. What-if’s. It is not of “ohhh, I wish things could be different” – not “why aren’t things like….” But “you know what – this is the way it is” – “THIS is how I feel – this is what I need to say”…I need to unburden my brain of all the junk that gets piled up in there – the injustice that is served, to myself or to the people I love or even to strangers who don’t have the nerve to let their voice out. I have that. It certainly is no gift to the world. It gets me in more trouble…but for even that one time in grade school when everyone was laughing at a girl in my class during our school play because she was overweight and I went up to the teacher and said “this is your fault – you shouldn’t be letting this happen – you should be stopping this!” and the next day that teacher apologized to me and to that girl…THAT makes it worth it…that makes purging worth the burn.