When someone asks how I’m doing, I tell them, “I’m doing alright”.
What I want to say, is that My anxiety is like an axe murder That I can’t get away from. When I find spaces to hide, It’s a relief. But It’s a game of hide and seek and I’m always found.
I want to say, I’m lonely floating through the day to day. It’s dark, cold, and desolate.
I want to say, I’m drowning in my sorrows. But the only person who can help Is 120 miles away.
Instead though, I develop an adequate answer. I throw on my disguise, Sculpt my face into a smile and I tell them, “I’m doing alright”.