S.O.S.

I can't walk another step without telling the world a story. My lungs are filled with too much air. My heart is raging with too much blood. My head is filled with too many thoughts, too many visions, too many scenarios that never were. My eyes can't keep filling up with tears if I refuse to let them spill over the edge. I read too many people's thoughts, I feel too many people's heartaches. I can no longer see into the future or revel in the past.

I want to scream into a pillow for hours. I want to cry until I fall asleep. I want to climb a mountain and yell so loud that no one can hear me. I want to write a novel so compelling that it could turn a sinner into a saint. I want to love so deeply that I cannot breathe again. I want to feel all these things building up inside me, choking me to death.

But they stay inside, they torture me, so I exist in a constant state of sensory overload. That is why I'm here, so you can share this with me.