Crashing

I’m crashing.
That “feeling” is back, and no book can help me.

The stress is piled up so high…I’m watching it teeter, ever so slightly…
And I just keep amassing it. I keep shoving it into closets instead of dealing with it.
“The closet door is swelling. It’s pushing against the hinges, the frame is going to break”
But unlike Ms. Verlee, I can’t “run, run far and fast” until “I wake up, cold and alone in a strangers arms” because it’s here. It’s here to stay and it’s…swallowing me.
The stress is piled, so high that all I can do is switch between laughing hysterically and crying for an hour before I yawn and decide the only option left is to sleep for some 4 hours in the middle of the day.
Those four hours…those four hours where no one’s reminding me about tests and projects and presentations and essays and notes and reminders of, oh guess what, yes you are fat and no boy wants you…I don’t want to wake up.
So I end up sleeping more, then waking up and panicking over the amount of time I’ve wasted and I cry. I cry and slam my fists into my desk, crying out to someone who isn’t listening.
Then I bunker down and work until exhaustion takes over again and I wake up with headaches.

Have you seen those “Shout it Out” submissions? The gorgeous pieces of art with confessions strew across them? Those inspirations of human nature? I’m planning on doing one someday, when the workload lessens, some day in the distant future.
I typed out all of the things I want to put on it. It’s 6 pages long.

Confessions:
- I hate it when people try to reach out, because I feel like I’m wasting their time.
- I hate asking for or accepting help, that doesn’t mean I don’t need it on occasion.
- I’m scared to ask for help, because the last time I tried, my mom told me it was ‘just that time of the month’. Then she laughed.

I posted this on DA.
Maybe someone will help me, without laughing.