Fine

Fine. I'm here. Everyone sees me, but they don't and I'm not. Fine. The mask I wear is wavering. Its slipping more and more. Others don't know how to respond. The calm facade I present is interrupted by a blink of rage. Did she just . . . no wait . . . nevermind . . . she's fine. Fine. How are you. Fine. I just heard . . . how do you feel about that . . . Fine. Fine. Fine. What happens when they discover that I am not. Fine. That that response is usually followed by a scream after hanging up the phone. Or a run to the bathroom to turn on the fan and find the hidden razor blade in my biore pore strip box. Don't worry mom. I'm fine. Couldn't be better. Grandpa's death - I going through all appropriate mourning stages. No significant other - I am fine being single. What friend? We don't "talk" anymore? I am just so busy keeping busy to mask the loneliness that I still inevitably feel. I'd like to be real for a day. Act pissed when I am pissed. Cry openly when I am upset. And then not feel stupid or ashamed or pitiful for doing so. To really feel fine when i said it and not have to scratch 16 lines into my ankle to help me forget what dumb thing I just said. I;d like to be really and truly fine.