Before I left, I asked how you were feeling.
You said you were okay.

But since when did okay turn into sleepless nights with your head resting on a pillow dampened by your tears?
Since when did okay turn into breaking wine glasses while getting drunk on the blood from your broken heart?
Since when did okay turn into drinking anti-depressants?
Since when did okay start to feel like hell?

If that's what being okay is like, then I guess I'm okay.