You ask me how I feel when I'm not okay.
When I'm slowly but surely dying.
When I've just told you I'm on antidepressants.
When I'm crying my eyes out wishing it could all be over.
When I have nothing else to long for but you.
When you know I'm in love with you.
You ask me how I feel when all I feel is loneliness.
When everything seems wrong and my body starts to shake.
When I'm trying to sleep but sleep is off somewhere.
When you remember I exist.
And I always answer back with an okay, even though I know you don't believe me.
But you never insist and so I can't tell you how I really feel.
That I need you.
That I miss you.
That I love you.
That I'm not okay.
And that's okay.
YOU ARE READING
For you
Non-FictionI don't think you'll ever find this, let alone read it but that's okay, it has to be. -M
