The Ugly Truth About Why She Keeps Swearing She’s Fine

I lie about being fine, because I have no idea how I would even begin to explain what’s bothering me. It’s impossible to put these feelings into words. If I tried to tell someone why I’ve been so blah lately, they wouldn’t understand what I meant. They wouldn’t grasp the extent of how much pain my brain is putting me through.

I lie about being fine, because the only people I would actually feel comfortable talking to about my problems are the people I don’t want to bother. I don’t want them to worry about me. I want them to think I’m living a happy, fulfilling life. I don’t want to bring them down with my misery.

I lie about being fine, because when people ask me how I’m doing, I feel like they’re only trying to make conversation. They’re only saying what they’ve been conditioned to say. They don’t expect an actual answer. They don’t want me to go into detail about all of the reasons why it took me an hour to get out of bed that morning. They would rather hear a pretty lie than the ugly truth.

I lie about being fine, because in comparison to most people, my life is fine. I feel like an asshole for complaining about my problems when I know how small they are in the grand scheme of things. I feel guilty about acting like I have it so rough when really, things aren’t going all that bad for me.

I lie about being fine, because it’s what I’ve always done. The idea of opening my heart up and telling the truth doesn’t even cross my mind anymore. When someone asks how I am, my gut instinct is to pretend that everything is okay.

I lie about being fine, because I would rather have people look at me like I’m strong. I don’t want to come across as a drama queen — or even worse, as someone to be pitied. I don’t want people to think I’m overly emotional and tiptoe around my emotions. I don’t want to be treated any differently than I am now.

I lie about being fine, because the only people who actually want to know how I’m feeling are the last people I want to explain my pain to. When I’m with them, I want to enjoy myself. I want to use their company as an escape. I want to forget about my problems while they’re around, not talk about them.

I lie about being fine, because I’m embarrassed about the way that I feel. I wish that I could easily smile instead of forcing fake ones. I wish that I could enjoy the moment instead of always finding something to complain about. I wish that I knew how to reach happiness instead of constantly wallowing in my own misery.

I lie about being fine, because I’m trying to trick myself into believing that it’s the truth. I’m trying to get better. I’m trying to be happy again.

I’m trying to convince everyone, include myself, that things are going to be okay.