I'm Fine

I’m fine.

My head is clouded.

A thick fog is blinding my line of sight

while life is passing me by.

Living on autopilot,

watching from the sidelines.

Losing interest.

But that’s okay.

My therapist tells me to stay productive.

Download another app.

Don’t forget to track.

Track my mood.

Track my sleep.

Track my steps.

And journal my thoughts away.

I’m fine.

I know because I said it twice.

That’s how confidence works, right?

Now I just have to reflect and reread my journal.

That’ll provide clarity

for a brain that’s all twisted up inside.

Reading aloud the words I wrote,

That seems so repetitive while saying the same thing:

I’m fine.

Everybody can see it.

My job thanks me for my hard work and dedication.

My friends thank me for understanding.

And every time I say, “yes”

People give me a standing ovation.

Everyone is satisfied.

But where does that leave me?

This question starts to part the fog for just a second.

Only long enough for me to notice what should’ve been obvious.

Surviving is not living,

That autopilot isn’t the same thing as cruising

And “fine” should never be my final destination.

Sadly, the fog returns

And life keeps moving.

And when someone asks how I’m doing,

I smile automatically and say,

I’m fine.