“I’m ok.” “I’m fine.” Two constant affirmations I fool everyone around me with.
Everyday they ask, “How are you?” and my general answer is either of the two lies I’ve grown accustomed to say.
Am I that good at acting? Have I finally mastered the art of pretending that no one can see that those affirmations are expressed through eyes so tired of crying, a mouth swollen from biting back screams, and a heart so empty?

Everyday I put on my fake happy mask, hoping that no one will notice how broken I really am.
But a part of me, albeit a small part, is begging and hoping that someone, anyone would just grab me and look past my façade.
I desperately want, no, need someone to just search through my eyes, see past my fake smile and tell me “You’re not okay.”

Is that too much to ask? Someone to just tell me that they know I’m not fine.
That it’s okay I’m not okay, that they’re here for me?
But I know it’s impossible. I burn the bridges people make before they even lay a foot on it.
I build my walls higher until it’s no longer penetrable.
I push people away, fearing that I’ll only end up with more tears and sleepless nights.
And yet I crave care.

See how ****** up I am?

I wish…I just wish that someone would actually be brave enough to rebuild the bridges I’ve burned, break down the walls I’ve built, no matter how hard it may be, and just tell me,

“You’re not alone.”