He's right there.
Less than 3 feet away from me.
Yet there is so much he doesn't know.
I promised I'd tell him if anything was wrong.
But he hasn't asked.
Does it still count as breaking a promise?
If he hasn't noticed?
If he's not paying attention?
Little does he know,
Everything is wrong.
I'm not ok.
And I might not ever be.
I love him.
But I won't tell him I'm not ok.
I can't.
He asked if I was ok.
I said I was.
I can't do it.
I need him to believe I'm ok.
I can't hurt him.
I'll never be okay.
I don't want to tell him.
He needs to believe I'm ok.
Until I'm actually ok.
I know he will read this.
As he always does.
So no, I'm not ok.
But I'm working at it.
I will get there.
And for now.
We will just say I am.
YOU ARE READING
It's just me.
Non-FictionThis is just one of those things I did because I can. It makes me feel oddly better. I mean I guess you could call this a venting space. But I prefer online journal. Thanks for reading. See you.
