My head

Am I told old to hide under the bed? I'm stuck in a storm the storm being in my head all I see is lightning all I hear is thunder like one boom crashing after another But that's not what you hear that's not what u see. U see me smiling u hear me laughing and giggling like I'm fine the thoughts I think arnt really devine my thoughts are a loophole all caught in vines they loop, knot, get cut, and repeat that's just the cycle. I don't open my bottle. I just twist the cap tighter knowing my pride shushes me and pushes me down. the roots where I come from my tree it gets taller and taller but older and older its breaking down. so Maybe. maybe I'm a little old to hide from my problems. maybe I'm to old to keep excuses for my mistakes just know if I could fix it I would but I stay shushed knowing I'll make it worse the worst is to come, its all on me.