By: Sarah St. George
I say that I am ok because I don’t want to worry anyone or bore them with the petty details of my inability to accept reality.
I say that I am ok because I don’t want to be an eeyore or a party crasher, dragging friends and family into the abyss that was once my smile.
I say that I am ok because brevity is valued above honesty. No one has the time of day to help me find the pieces of my heart and put them back together.
I say that I am ok because I don’t want anyone to think I am crazy. I don’t know how to explain that little bugs have been planted into my head sucking the blood from my dreams and making me feel things I do not.
I say that I am ok because if anyone sees how fragile my grip on reality is, they will lure me into a mirage. A dreamworld that will become cold and dark when the sun comes up.
I say that I am ok because I don’t know how to explain what it feels like to always be so far away from here and now. Chasing something that doesn’t exist into the center of nowhere.
I say that I am ok because I don’t want you to know that I don’t hear words when you talk to me. Only a medley of stabbing silences. Your face is home to many ghosts.
I say that I am ok because desperate, whiney, and pathetic are not attractive. I can’t find anything constructive or creative to do with the fragments of myself but perhaps you can burn them for fire wood or make a trophy to show off to your friends.
I say that I am ok because ok sounds so much better than lonely, starving, and dying inside.
I say that I am ok because it’s easier than to tell you that I need you and find it difficult to breathe without you.
I say that I am ok because I am not vulnerable. I don’t build my life upon a foundation of words. “I love you” is just pretty little lie that doesn’t do any good or harm.
I say that I am ok because I don’t want you to lose a minute of sleep or change a single one of your plans out of pity and guilt.
I say that I am ok but I don’t want to be ok. I want to be exhilarated, ravaged, exhausted, ripped open, torn to pieces, and made whole again in the rapture of a smile.
I wish it were ok not to be ok. I’m tired of pretending. I just want to feel even if it means being destroyed every moment that I am crushed under the weight of your hollow allegiances. Every moment I am breathing.