I had a dream this morning that knocked me on my ass. I awoke, gasping and achy and wretched.
I feel like I can't control my emotion, like I'm not the master of my body or my mind. I feel like one of the creatures I've always hated: a blubbering, sniveling, irrational woman who can't get a hold of herself, psycho, with emotions so utterly raw that the slightest touch will make me scream, my nerves exposed to naked interrogator light bulbs, an aspect of me I thought I'd squashed with reason, tolerance, understanding, patience.
I can't function.
I haven't done anything crazy yet. I haven't blasted the world with questions to ease my mind. I havne't called on the telephone repeatedly until someone answered. I haven't lashed out at anyone. I haven't run away to hide. I haven't gotten drunk. I haven't binge eaten. I haven't screamed. I've only cried a little.
But I want to.