I’m not okay, but that’s okay.
I don’t need to be okay all the time.
I don’t want to be okay all the time.

That’s unreasonable.

I’m not okay, but that’s okay.
Waves wash over me in each gulp of broken breath I take.
Waves wash down my cheeks in every glimpse of this greyscale world I get.

It seems unreasonable.

To not be okay, is it really okay?
To have thoughts of everything in a field of nothing?
To believe you are nothing in the moment you are the most something?

It’s unreasonable.

I’m not okay, but that’s okay.
I won’t be okay all the time.
I can’t be okay all the time.

Unreasonable.

I’ve said it so much that okay has become unreasonable,
that a word repeated has lost all meaning
and all emotion.
It has lost structure and no longer looks of a word,
but the remnants of one.

Explain how a word that can be simplified to but two letters can lose all meaning.

It’s not okay.
It’s unreasonable.