I'm okay.
I silently repeat,
over and over again,
telling myself I don't care,
Telling myself I don't have the right not to be because there's people actually suffering,
right?
I tell myself I can take it,
day by day,
until I break down and cry,
until I'm disgusted looking in the mirror,
until I stare at my food consciously, until I lay awake at night,
rolling side to side,
trying to shut up the voices in my head.
They're screaming,
they're screaming constantly,
and I fear if they get any louder,
I soon might go deaf to the real world.
I'm not okay.
