Person 2: "Good! How are you?"
Person 1: "I'm good, thanks!"
But are we really? Whenever I get that question asked, I smile through it. And lie. Because no. I am not doing well. I am not ok, like I want everybody else to believe. I want people to think I have my shit together, when in reality, I shattered into pieces a long time ago.
If somebody remembers me falling apart, they expect me to pick myself up. They think I already have. But they do not know that every time I try to get myself back together, it ends up backfiring, and I am left empty, numb, and confused. But they don't need to know that.
Asking for help is so difficult. Receiving it is even harder. All that is left is a fake smile, fake laugh, fake confidence that masks the silent scream inside. I am broken. I am near rock bottom.
But they do not need to know that.
