I will never forget the first time I was really, really ill. I was seven. I ate something bad and got food poisoning. And as is the nature of sickness, your system is designed to get the toxins out by any means possible. I had been sick before, but this time... well, this time I thought the world was going to end. To this day, the thought of that combination of flavors makes me nervous, because I never want to feel that way ever again.
But what I learned there was something I will never forget. It hurts. But the toxins have to leave your system.  The poison has to come out, before you can move on.
It sounds dramatic but there's been something bad in my heart for years. I've dressed it up with different faces and called it by different names and it has led to some hilarious stories, but it was just the same thing.
And so many times, I've let it out. I have sobbed and I have blamed. But sometimes, only once or twice, I thought the world was going to end. I cried as though my heart was broken. I felt seven years old again.
I got it half right. But I got it half wrong.
Because the world is not going to end.
But goddamn it if it doesn't make you never want to feel that way again.
And fuck. There are some tears that hurt. They hurt down to the bone. But not a single one of those is for a guy. Not a single one is for anything coming to an end.
It's because the poison has to come out. So the next thing can begin.