I'm Fine

I’m sitting here. I’m trying to get your attention. But you don’t see me.

I’m like every other average person you see walking down the street. We’re all on our own schedules, walking aimlessly down crowded streets, dashing past one another as if we’re afraid that if we pause, someone will stop us.

If we’re stopped, it’s all over.

If I’m stopped, it’s all over.

If I stop, you’ll start asking questions. How is my day? How am I feeling? How am I managing?

I want to tell you; I want to unload my feelings into the palm of your hand.

But I can’t.

To admit that I need someone to talk to is weakness. To admit that I have unwanted feelings is weakness.

The questions are merely pleasantry anyways; you don’t want a truthful answer.

So I don’t let my emotions show. They’re hidden.

My day is fine, I’m feeling fine, and I’m fine. Fine is society’s word for feelings. We remain plastered beneath fine as an excuse to remain idle in the realm of emotions.

I’m sitting here. I’m trying to get your attention. But you don’t see me. You don’t want to see me.