I’m cursed with the disease of vomit mouth. Also known as verbal diarrhea. “A condition suffered by an individual who has the inability to shut the fuck up, I.e the words keep flowing.” (Urban Dictionary)
I always manage to say too much and I never know when to stop talking. Spit out shit and talk a lot of crap. Mostly because it sounds good in my head and I’m quite confident that I’m right. Because I feel the need to say what I want to say and get it off my chest. Because this need – this selfish, selfish need – is more important than the consequences of said verbal diarrhea. Because incessant rambling is better than awkward silences. Because of all the wrong reasons in the world.
And the worst symptom of this disease is the aftermath; the guilt and self-doubt and total regret. All day it’s “whyyyyy did I say that?” “whyyyyy” “whyyyyyyy” “whyyyyyyyyyyyyy”
And! Aaaannnnd. In order to make myself feel better (yup, you guessed it) I keep talking.
But. Maybe it’s not wrong. Maybe it’s OK. Maybe I need to believe that it’s OK for me to voice my opinion. Maybe it’s not verbal diarrhea. Maybe I need to chill out.