"It's okay, you don't need to worry about me," I lie through my teeth and I swallow the screams. I tell them not to worry but I'm worried, I'm scared, I'm coming apart at the seams.
"I'm doing just fine," I tell them when they ask but the words burn my tongue. Fine is a lie, fine is a myth, fine is a long way off and I wouldn't know it even if I felt it because it's been so long since I've really been fine.
"Everything's great," but nothing is great and I'm falling apart. The weight of each morning crushes down and the chorus of my sick and broken brain sings lonely, stuck, worthless over and over until I can't see straight.
"I'm just tired today," but tired of what I don't tell them. No, don't tell them you're tired of waking and tired of breathing and tired of lying through your teeth.
Everything in me hurts but I push a smile that stings my eyes onto my face and I lie through my teeth and people smile back because I haven't slowed them down. Because if I told them the truth they wouldn't know what to say. Because when they ask how you are they don't want to know- not really- they want the civil answer, the easy answer, the one that requires nothing from them. Because when they ask it's out of politeness not of caring and I'm so tired of fighting with myself I can't bear to fight with them, not over this, not over me. So yes I'm doing just fine and everything's great and I'm just a little tired today.
