Who has the glue to hold me together?

My glibness yesterday is not a true reflection of this cycle.

The mistakes, false starts, and my inability to plan are causing a subtle gnawing anxiety and a heavy, dragging stone to settle in my lungs. I feel constantly on the brink of slow, seeping, silent tears. I want to curl up around the hollow place that has formed in my chest, cradling it. I am fragile, cracked glass, just waiting for the bad news to shatter me.