Fateful regret and future torment

So I'm crying again, in my room alone, my eyes now heavy, a result of stupid action's I that rarely condone.

I'll ask not of your pity, neither of your understanding. Just read it this and hear me.

There is a ball of emotion that refuses to show itself, buried deep in my chest, squeezing my heart and piercing my lungs, that relishes in my breathless cries for help.

The lack of pity is deserved, I hid that emotion there, to hide it from myself - it wasn't cast away but locked away for future reference.

I'm under attack though self inflicted, certainly. I wake up to sleep; the day lacking purpose.

Someone please hold me up?

I'm falling, drowning, crying, lying holding everyone else's problems so that I don't have to face my own.

They stare at me and their judgment rains on me, burning droplets of fateful regret and future torment.

You cannot misinterpret this, no one's problem is too heavy for me to carry, for I have held mine before and am used to great loads.