Faltering in the margins of Impolite to Discuss

My head is full of bees. I feel like I have nothing to say but I should. There are a million tiny strings to pull but the wrong string unzips it all. My thoughts are constipated and it's dumb to mention it but not talking about it makes it harder to start solving it. I've learned the hard way that no one wants to hear about money problems, depression or how sad it is when your beautiful boyfriend is really far away. But that's pretty much what I'm dealing with. It's an impressively personal ball of fuckadoodle. What's my point? My point is it has to get better right?