How do I talk about it?

I honestly don’t know. The thoughts are there, twisting my mind into knots. When I try to voice my pain, the words lock in my throat. And for the ones that do reach the hurtful world, my tongue rebels, answering the question “How are you?” with falsehoods and the deceiving picture of happiness. While, my torn heart sends seething blood through frayed veins. The frustration at my inability to sing my masking anger, masking for it transforms the rolling waves of depression into an explosive force, burns through the walls of my stomach. One way or another, it must come out. My racked body trembles from the strain of years carrying this weight.

But, how do I talk about it?