I'm Fine ( And Other Lies )

💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

I’m fine.
Which is code for
“don’t ask”
or maybe
“ask again, but gentler this time.”

I wake up tired,
go to bed wired,
and in between I serve smiles like free samples
at a store nobody shops at.

They say “you’re so strong.”
Thanks. I’ve been lifting
the weight of unspoken thoughts
and my own expectations
since puberty.

I laugh at everything.
It’s either that or
cry in aisle five next to the instant noodles.
(Again.)

Truth is —
I feel everything.
Loudly.
Deeply.
Too much.
But I bottle it up
like it’s some kind of
explosive I’m trying to defuse with silence.

Because if I said what I really felt,
you’d feel guilty.
Or worse —
you wouldn’t care.

So I say nothing.
Not because I don’t trust you,
but because I’ve been hurt
so many times
by people who looked me in the eye
and called me "dramatic"
for bleeding.

I swallow my pain
so I don’t hurt the people who hurt me.
Isn’t that ironic?
A punchline I never get to laugh at.

People love me for being real,
until I get too real.
Then it’s:
"Have you tried being more positive?”
Sure. I positively hate being dismissed.

I post memes at midnight,
write poetry I’ll never publish,
talk to God like He’s
my exhausted therapist,
and wonder if I’m
too much
or not enough.
Often at the same time.

But I’m fine.
Really.
That’s not a lie.
It’s more like…
a rough draft of the truth.

Authors Note: What's your interpretation of this?