How Are You?“I’m okay.”At least that’s what I tell youand what I tell myself

How Are You?

“I’m okay.”
At least that’s what I tell you
and what I tell myself
Because for as long as I can remember,
there’s been this odd feeling
deep, deep, deep inside of me
that I can’t quite explain
and it wouldn’t go away

Some days it consumes me
downplays even the littlest of the good things that happened to me
It’s as if I deserve this
and I have no right to be happy
I am easily irritated
I push people away
even if all I wanted was to call out their name
and ask them to stay

But what frustrates me the most
is that I no longer appreciate
all of the things that made my worries dissipate
I look at art; I used to make art
because art is supposed to make you feel something
But how is that even possible now
when the void only keeps on growing
and at the end of the day, you still feel like you’re missing something?

That’s why I say I’m “okay”
Two letters or four,
however you spell it
It looks simple and easy
It doesn’t ask any questions
It doesn’t take much out of my depleting energy
And that’s what I want right now —
what I think I need

Some people see past my fictitious testimonies,
my false confidence, false smile, false laugh
So it looks like I’m not succeeding
in the illusion that I keep conjuring
They tell me to man up and to stop overthinking
They tell me to snap out of it; there are bigger problems than my own
Gee, Karen, I didn’t know it was that easy! I should have thought about that sooner
Now, I think you’ve cured me!

I look around me and see how people can just simply be happy
My friends are going to med school,
they’ve defended their thesis,
they sleep in on weekends,
they have time to watch a movie
It looks like things come to them so naturally
Then only one thing invades my thoughts in the wee hours of the morning:
why can’t that be me?

Deep down I know that those things can be misleading;
that these people also have things that they’re keeping
We might have the same struggles,
there’s just a little difference in the details
It’s just that these bad brain days
make me feel like I’m beyond repair,
and this distorted way of thinking is here to stay
and keep me in despair

I tried everything there is:
books that help you rediscover your purpose,
catch up with my good ol’ friends,
chant while in the sitting position called “lotus”,
and redirect my focus to school things instead
I’ll admit that it somewhat helped
and suddenly, things are no longer as intense
So here I am, thinking, “Did I…just make that up in my head?”

So one day, I find myself singing again
ABBA, Beyoncé, Kanye, you name it
I’ve set my mind on grad school
I’m working on defending my thesis
You wouldn’t even believe that I got eight hours of sleep last weekend
I also just watched a whole season of good TV
I didn’t even know that the agents of SHIELD had been battling the Kree
Gosh, I don’t want this feeling to end

But that good, happy place doesn’t last
and the emptiness creeps in way too fast
I thought I’ve had a good grip on this new reality
How did I let it get taken out of my hands?
Here we go again
It’s barely been a minute since I actually felt sane
Here we go again with this random period of crippling paranoia
“Can we please chill for a minute, dear brain?”

No.
And it was there when I came to understand
why people jumped in front of moving trains,
why they threw themselves off buildings,
why some chose to drink the night away
— a quick fix
Acting as quickly as the void that swallowed them whole;
as quickly as their desire to put it all to an end

They say that the truth will set you free;
they say it’ll bring about inner peace,
help you go to bed and finally get a good night’s sleep
but there are always two sides of the same coin
and we rarely talk about the other story,
the one where the truth can be filled with pain and agony
the one that makes us feel that we’re locked up in a box
and then suffocated by a bag full of life’s atrocities

I wish more people would see this truth
that I’m still me and you’re still you
that we are not the demons inside our minds
that every day is a fight to no longer be slaves of the pain we feel inside
I long for the day
where I could be honest
look you in the eye, take a deep breath, and say,
“The truth is, I am not okay.”

I wrote this spoken word poetry piece in the quiet of the morning in my favorite café. All 827 words in under 20 minutes. There were no tears shed in the process of writing and practicing until today, where I broke down mid-performance in front of my literature professor and 16 of my classmates. I guess it was only then and there where I really felt every word I uttered. I was so focused on extracting those feelings and putting them into words, I neglected to understand what they meant. So here I am, back in the café, coming to a realization that there’s still so much pain left inside of me, even if for the past few days I feel like I’m finally getting back on my feet. It’ll probably take a little bit more effort (and maybe even that spiritual retreat next week) to achieve some sort of inner peace, but I’m glad I made this progress of acknowledging my truth today.

If you ever find yourself resonating with this piece, I wish I could surround you with fluffy clouds, cute lil’ bunnies, and all the good things. If you need a friend, my inbox is open 24/7.