i’m fine

golf ball in your throat. but swallow it down anyway, and take the pain the same way you take your morning medication, because whatever. you’re going to be fine in the end, and it’s not like your problems really matter.

so go ahead. tell them you’ll be fine. tell them there’s nothing they can do, but thanks for asking, all right?

even though you’re not all right.

because i don’t want help. i don’t want company. and i get it. you love me. but i don’t want you to save me from myself.

and i’m not fine. i know i’m not fine. i know we’re driving home, and i’m crying in the passenger’s side. but i don’t really want to talk about it. so can you do me a favour, and just pretend that i’m not even here? that everything is fine? 

because honestly, i just want to disappear tonight.

Oof, this is a super-cliche topic, but it’s still been something that’s been on my mind a lot. Normally, I’m actually really good at communicating what I’m going through. But of late, I’ve been having a lot of thoughts about keeping it to myself, and really slipping from my usual self. And to be honest, that is terrifying. So… I wrote a poem about it.

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