Slipping through my fingers

Bouts of sadness. Unless I keep myself busy, I am sad. But because I am always busy, I am sad. The type of sadness where you just want to unzip your skin and crawl inside, then zip it back up and live hiding away forever. Where your hearts beats anxiously fast for nothing - you'd rather it didn't beat at all. Despite how hard you try, despite your best efforts, the sadness always seems to find its way in, seeping through the cracks until it drowns you in a torrential gush of emotions; when it's too late to stop it.