Hey Omotayo

It doesn’t feel like butterflies, not quite. It turns slowly, bubbling up from the bottom of your belly as you swallow and swallow to choke it down. It doesn’t go away. 
You realise it will not go away, and that’s when it boils over and spills out of your eyes.

You let it pour, because you hope it means that it will finish. But you know it won’t.