I'm Fine

You get up in the morning.

You get out of bed and get dressed. You do your hair, brush your teeth, do your makeup if you want. You eat your breakfast and open the door and you go out to face the world.

You do a day's worth of work, and you get by. You could do better, but you could do worse. You could fight harder, but you could give up.

You're fine. You laugh and cry and play and fight - you're just like everyone else. Sure, there are happier people. Sure, there are people that have more. But there are also people with less. Much less.

So then why do you want to stay in bed?

Why do you hide beneath the duvet? Why do you stumble into the bathroom and stare at the mirror for hours, wondering why you're even bothering? Why do you pull on a shirt and trousers, and wonder if anyone would notice if you wore the same thing twice?

Why do you choke down your food, or tell yourself you'll eat later? Why do you laugh and wish you were screaming? Why do you lie and wish you were telling the truth?

Do you even know what truth is anymore?

Is what you see what everyone else sees?

There are voices in your head. That sounds wrong - but there are. They whisper and clamour, and they shriek and cut and you're holding them all in - wondering when your mind became the prison for them. You lay down to sleep at night, but they won't shut up. They follow you outside, and you scream at them - and then look up to realise that everyone hears you, but can't hear the voices.

So you push yourself to exhaustion. You keep going and going and going - because you don't care any more. And you don't care that you don't care. and this terrifies you - but you still just can. Not. Care. And you don't know why.

You have too much to do. You're slacking. You're lying in bed when there are things to do. You didn't do well on that last project - you need to work harder, make up for it. You're better than this - you know it!

You can sleep when you're dead.

You'll live with it. You always have. The voices say something's wrong - but it's all on you. If you were better, this wouldn't be happening. If you were better, you wouldn't be failing. If you were better, you wouldn't be so weak.

This is all you know. This is all you are. You don't remember another life. This is the way everyone lives.

So you get up in the morning, and you smile. You dress up, and you eat breakfast, and you work. Because there are others so very much worse off than you. They're more tired. Their cuts are deeper. They stand on the side of a bridge and look down.

You only stand on the window ledge.

You're fine.