I'm fine. Two simple words. But they aren't anything close to simple. Behind them lies a world of pain. Masked by the simple statement. It's a cover up. A way of dodging the bullet. But I'm sick of it. I'm sick of hiding everything with "I'm fine."                             
My dad is losing his job.
That's not fine.
My mom is getting worse.
That's not fine.
I'm gonna have to get a job to help pay for things. That's not fine.
I'm going to have to sell memories of my life to help.
That's not fine.
So don't look at me and ask if I'm okay and believe me when I say I'm fine.
I'm lying.