stressed

It rips you up inside.  It starts in your head, moves to your lungs, then your heart, and soon your stomach has found a new love for gymnastics.  How do you deal with all of this?  How do you handle this one thing when right behind it, playing follow the leader, is something else even more frightening.  Soon, you're eaten alive.  You're consumed by everything that has tortured your body and you're left a stump.  A stump of a person that can't move.  You can barely even breathe.  You've been chopped down and all of your leaves have been stripped away from you.  All you can do is fall to the ground and wait for peace to find you once more.

You never asked for any of this to happen.  You didn't ask to have all of this be thrown on your shoulders.  You did not want rocks added to your backpack when you already had books, a laptop, pens, pencils, and trash tucked in there.  The bottom, struggling to hold together with all of the weight pressing down upon it, is frayed from the abundance of weight.  You didn't need rocks, no matter the size, placed in with those things.  But, the silent protest that you are so proud of aren't doing you any good.  You're passive-aggressive nature allows you to be the geek with his backpack open.  The geek that has rocks tossed in his pack because he can't seem to zip the thing up.

How can I say this without sounding to dramatic?  hm...?  I'm stressed!<---Does the exclamation mark make it too dramatic?

-Jeremy-