“Breathe” you tell me.
As if it’s that easy.
To keep forcing my chest to expand when the weight of the world is resting so firmly upon it.
“It will be okay” you coo.
As if everything isn’t falling apart around me.
And the world isn’t ending everywhere we look.
“Don’t worry about it” you whisper.
As if I can think of anything else.
But the hundred different worries that have taken up all the real estate my mind has to offer.
“I’m here”, you declare.
As if you won’t leave.
Just like everyone else.
“You okay?” You ask.
As if you don’t already know the answer.
That I haven’t been okay for as long as I can remember.
“I am” I nod.
As if my response actually meant something to you.
While I pretend that my world isn’t slowly folding in at the edges.