‘Yeah, I’m Fine.’

‘Yeah, I’m Fine.’

You ok?’
‘Yeah, I’m fine.’
I just sat on the closed lid of a toilet for an hour trying to remember how to breathe, wondering if this is what it is like to be dying, hoping that the girl one stall over won’t recognize the fraying laces of my sneakers as mine.
‘Yeah, I’m fine.’
I just spent 17 hours sleeping because sometimes suicide is not an option but oblivion is so I closed my eyes. And when I woke up it was dark out, but I had no missed calls because nobody misses the girl who doesn’t make plans she’ll have to cancel, who books time off of work to lie in bed and stare at the ceiling, dreaming of an alternate universe in which she is not sad.
‘Yeah, I’m fine.’
I just left class, got in my car, and drove in circles until dark, my hands shaking, gas tank draining, parents wondering why I’m not home for dinner. But maybe I don’t want to go home because their are skeletons in my closet mom, and their bones rattle at night calling me from sleep and into another nightmare that I can’t remember but know that my throat burns with the silence of screams and the suffocating warmth of my tears.
‘Yeah, I’m fine. But I’m not at the same time.’
‘What happened?’
‘Nothing.’
Phantom hands just wrap around my throat when I realize the depth of the loneliness I feel no, not for someone or something, but for silence. On my knees praying ‘please, grant me a measure of sanity, raise me from this grave that existence has become, open these eyes, they are blind, and I’m begging you, please silence my mind.’ Don’t you see that nothing happened, it’s not you, it’s me.

 

Nothing happened, and doesn’t need to, because depression never leaves.

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