Pressure

I can feel the pressure slowly building. But I know that's just the way I am. Slowly simmering until eruption.

And I can tell that someday soon I will explode, and the truth will pour from my lips to whomever happens to be there at the time. It's happening little by little already. The day is coming, and I dread it so, yet eagerly anticipate it.

I don't want pity. I want help.