Words Like Pepto

Sometimes the memories flood my brain and fill me with the emotional wreckage of my not-so-popular life choices.  But at least I have something to write about.
I have taken to writing or doodling every night before I go to bed and this practice seems to have put cracks in the damn that I have been building to help me deal with the rush of emotions that I sometimes experience.  By writing down whatever I have in the front of my mind, room is made for the next set of thoughts to step to the front of the line.  It's like the act of putting it on paper actually removes it from my mind.  It is my coping mechanism, which is healthier than my old method of stuffing it down into a sack in the basement of my brain and hoping it would never get to see the light of day.  But it always does.
So, I have an emotional emesis nightly spread out in my rather nondescript scrawl over lined paper.  The taste it leaves in my mouth depends on the contents.  There are nights when the taste is sweet from removing the taint from my heart and I sleep deeply with dreams that entertain with insanity.  Other nights, the heaving brings tears and sobbing as I work out the emotions of past indiscretions and apologize to nobody for things I have done but have never spoken of.  The visions that come to me in my sleep will leave me choked up and tearful, as if I had been crying all night, when my alarm clock forces me awake in the morning.  The strangest discovery for me is the taste of hate and anger on my tongue.  There is more than I thought, and if I had to guess I would say there is probably even more than that.
I don't like hate.  It is ugly.  I didn't even think I had that emotion amongst my lexicon of feelings.  I guess I do.  I guess I am as human as anyone else.  The taste it leaves is sour as it passes onto the page.  The worst part of its ugliness is that it sticks in my teeth for days following.  Hate is the Pablano of emotions.  Sometimes you think you could use a little bit to spice things up, but you always regret it later when your heart burns and the indigestion leaves your mouth sour.
I am captivated by the the nights that I tap into something that I didn't know was looming behind the scenes.  Those nights the words spill onto the page in a fury and are nonsensical afterward.  Those are the words that most accurately reflect the darkness that dwells.  They are the guilt and the sadness and the anger and hate that creep into my dreams and cloud my vision when I wake.  They are the words I can't speak out loud.  My only reprieve is that of pen to paper and they only surface in letters forming words forming thoughts or in drawings that are rarely more than sketches of the recesses of my mind.
Sometimes they scare me.  But when emotions are seen clearly they are never as bad as they are in your heart.  I think your heart tends to see things bigger than they are.  That's why initial emotions are so strong in both love and hate.  When the blood slows again, things fall in to perspective.  For me, putting the emotion on paper is my way of seeing it clearly.
Even writing about my writing is like seeing the silt in the river begin to clear so that the largest stones begin to take shape.  I can't see the little fish yet, but they are down there.
Words are thoughts taken shape.  They are the reflection of the things we can't see.
Words are what will eventually set me free.