Bottled up

I haven’t been sleeping well, some nights I don’t sleep at all. Literally.

As in, I’ve been pulling all-nighters, because I know I won’t be able to sleep.

I just lay in bed and stare at the walls, then get up, read a bit, try again to lay down, fail miserably, feel fucking stupid, and go back to my chair to read some more until it’s time to get ready for work.

No, this does not make for good days. I end up crashing in there, somewhere.

I get sick, like I did this week.

I try to stop the cycle, I’ve tried exercise, I put down the phone so I’m not staring at social media right before bed. I haven’t watched TV in, fuck, weeks.

I don’t drink caffeine, and I’ve stopped smoking. (Except for the odd stress smoke)

It’s my brain.

I’m all wrapped around my stress right now. I’ve got decisions that I’m supposed to be making, and things I’m supposed to be doing, that I’m not doing and my heart is starting to race just thinking about it.

I think I’m putting off the decisions and the things…because either way I end up deciding… someone I care about is going to feel hurt.

And that’s something I can’t stand to do.

Goddess, I know! All of this talk is so fucking vague… I can’t even come right out and just say it.

Everything is so bottled up inside me right now, and I feel as though I’m a chunk of cesium in water.

I haven’t been able to talk to anyone, either. Oh…stupid, surface shit, sure. I talk to the coworkers, but that’s work stuff, my mask is firmly nailed on, there.

But, to talk about scratching that surface? Letting anyone see what’s going on behind door number 1? That’s a big nopesicle.

I know I need to change something. Something’s going to have to give, or my brain will break, and not in a good way. (Is there a good way for that to happen? Like a pinata, would candy fall out? Streamers?)

I just…

Don’t know how to get out of this bottle without cracking the glass.