Spilled Tea

Detonate

I need time to slow down.

My quiet crying doesn't sound like it used to. It's a deeper sound. Maybe it is the maturing of my voice. It's been such a long time since things have really felt like they were falling apart.

I feel like the clock is ticking and my time is running out.

There's too much on my plate. I need to confess something: I can feel the energy of this coming week and something is going to happen that is going to make me finally snap. I can feel it in my bones. I smell it in the wind. I'm not sure it will fix as easily as the last time I was sure I was going to snap in half.

The minutes are ticking in my ear faster and faster.

These weeks have become bottled with anxiety filled with large things on my shoulders. I've been faltering at my performance in life and in school. The actual performances for audiences have been a source for the emotion 'terrified' right now. If I can't preform like I regularly do to be who I am seen as by others without feeling like I'm going to combust, how do I preform well for a crowd? I feel like I need to perform better in life because I don't want to be seen as someone who is crumbling.

Oh God, my breathing speeds with the seconds that seem to be growing shorter.

Tell me something: why is it a few written words that cause this feeling to erupt so painfully? I've been dealing with all these big anxieties and humiliating moments. Not to mention, a new person holding pieces of my heart. Things like that can always be dangerously unpredictable. These things may have been incorporated in my breakdown, but five little words did it in. These were not even said by the one with part of my heart. I'm convinced she wouldn't say something like that because she's a bit more careful with her actions.

I'm gripping onto my own self because I don't know what happens when the time runs out.

Please don't let this be what causes me to finally detonate.