I’m not fine.

Not at all.

Not in the slightest.

And I really want to tell someone,

To get it _out_.

Even more than that,

I want someone to ask if I’m okay.

I plan out entire speeches in my head

For the unlikely event that someone did ask.

I want someone to ask if I’m okay,

Not because I reach out,

Not because I write a rant-poem about it,

But because they see it.

Because they notice.

I want someone to ask,

But I’d never honestly answer.

What would it do?

How would talking actually help?

No one can do anything about it,

So there’s no reason to burden other people with my problems.

There’s no reason to even write about it.

There’s no reason to bring anyone else down with me.

I’m not fine,

Not at all,

Not in the slightest.

But I don’t know how to talk about it,

So I guess I am.

Sure,

I’m fine.