I hate keeping everything bottled up all the time, like the soda can with pressurized contents that then gets jostled and jostled and shaken until, when the moment comes to pop that seal, everything inside spews out in a violent, foamy mess.

But this is the only way I know, and my practice to handle things differently to prevent a sticky explosion of my innards is not going smoothly.

I cannot even think of small ways to express the frustrations and hurts and fears, all those jostlings, that I feel. The normal methods for most people I know are anything but natural for me and don't help alleviate the pressure.

I need a therapist.

And, perhaps it shouldn't, but it makes me sad to think that I would have to pay someone in order for them to listen to me.

Everything is all

tonight.