You ask me if I’m ok.
I’ll always say I am. Some version of “I’m fine” will automatically make its way out of my lips, and usually with a smile. On a good day, I’ll even pair it with a confused look, like I have no idea why you are asking me this question in the first place.
I don’t know how to say I’m not okay.
The truth is, it’s easier this way. It’s almost a game I play with the world. Most days I really am fine, truly. But getting through the bad days without a single person catching on to my act, well that’s just pure gold for me. A trophy if you will. Besides, if that’s what gets me through the bad days so I can have another good day, then so be it.
Sometimes I have moments where I think I could spill my secrets. I could openly say exactly what I’m thinking, what I’m feeling, and how I truly am doing.
Then I imagine how I’d feel after. I can only assume I’d be full of regret. It seems at the time it would feel so freeing. However, I know in the end I’ll just feel more imprisoned. Judged. Vulnerable. Exposed.
My thoughts aren’t safe with anyone.
Does this make me fake? Maybe. But if you consider yourself my friend, then you probably already know this about me. If you consider yourself a friend AND know this about me, then I guess I don’t need to worry about coming across fake. I’m sure I just come across as myself. Thank you for understanding.
Recently some friends turned their backs on me, reminding me what I’ve always said all along….
Everyone leaves eventually.
So really, what’s the point of opening up? Spilling the secrets? Telling someone when you are on the ledge and feel like jumping? Giving someone the bullets to use against you later seems like an awful idea.