Their ignorance is almost painful to watch, but also oddly, naïvely beautiful. They think I am bad of now. It would be hilarious, wasn't I suffering so much from it. But I am, and the pain in their eyes when watching me just makes it so much worse. But it's still almost bareable. Almost.
”Are you okay?” They ask it as if they don't know the answer, but they do, and I had enough of those questions the first time around, when I first went under. I can barely spare the energy to give them a nice little lie.
But I do it.
In reality I guess I am okay, all things considered. I have been worse, and the thing about life is that as long as you've had worse, it's not really bad, right?
Not completely anyway.
So yeah, I'm okay.
I spend my nights screaming into my pillow instead of sleeping, but I'm fine.
I get anxiety attacks that lasts for hours and bury my fingernails in my palms to place my focus elsewhere, but I'm alright.
At least I am not completely empty, just comfortably numb, for now. I hope it lasts. I hope I'll sleep tonight.
But don't... Don't worry about me. I'm just fine...
Hush hush now...