"Are you doing okay?" you ask and I'm wondering "Am I?"
I say that I am and deep down that's true. I tell you I'm tired, that's also true.
I tell you I'm satisfied, so is that, too. But I also feel like I'm on a wire, and it loosens sometimes
and tightens and feels like it's going to break.
Fact about me: I've never been one for high places or low. I like to stay in the middle with only the occasional difference, taken in moderation like sugar in tea.
So I tell you I'm happy, or at least I am right now. And I guess that's how it works, sometimes you don't feel it.
I've always wondered why it's easier to write things when I'm sad,
it's like I'm bleeding onto a white page, and they're forming words and ideas that I never knew I had
when I'm happy, I don't always feel like sharing it. I like to carry it inside me, break a piece off with a smile
to a stranger, hug my mama tight. But when I'm sad I want to let it out. Spread it thick like butter on bread, mix in metaphors that don't really work but they make me feel better.
The truth is, I'm too afraid to say why I'm scared, because it sounds selfish and immature when it comes out of my mouth and I'd rather marinate it until I decide.
When I do it spills out to who ever will listen and I'm scared that someday they'll run,
I'm trying to do better, let it trickle into stories instead of falling on my head in waves.
I'm taking deep breaths and trying not to say that's it's my fault or I'm over reacting.
But it's still scares me when I'm feeling better, and I have lots of things to say
and someone asks me, and they look nervous, "hey, are you okay?"
because then I wonder, "really, am I?"
There isn't an answer to that, I know. One day I'm on a high spot and it doesn't feel very even,
the next I'm sloping downwards and I can stop my feet from moving but I'll tell you one thing:
spring is coming and life tastes brighter then and I think I'll be okay, in fact I might even be great
or satisfied or happy or a million different things and some of them all at once. But I'm going to
pull through, I don't see how I couldn't. Until then, I'll just keep writing when I'm sad, and giving strangers smiles when I'm happy.