The Definition of Insanity

Tonight, and Forevermore

Someone once asked me, “If you’re bleeding, but your lips proclaim otherwise, who are you deceiving?” My answer, a child’s answer, confidently told, “The other person of course.” But as my own lips proclaim false happiness, I must shake my head at my younger self.

I talk to my friends and tell them that I am fine when they ask, because as long as that is portrayed, no one will suspect anything else. The text, it flashes read, and soon becomes lost in the sea of useless conversations we partake in; like they will stay and that I won’t eventually push any away. My emotions, they are locked behind wall of indifference, and the day, well, it blurs by.

Do you remember that girl, the one who happily petted puppies and anything soft and would shout like you were the devil incarnate if you dared step on a beautiful flower? Because my friend, she is gone. You wistfully spoke of her one night, saying you wish she would come back, so you could see that happiness again. But I must apologize, because it seems I do not know how to reclaim something I have long since lost.

So if you ask me, “If you’re bleeding, but your lips proclaim otherwise, who are you deceiving?” I will reply the only answer I know.

“Them. For I promise you, I am fine.”