I’m fine. It’s what I tell people. I’m fine.
Sometimes I’m not fine. I’m not okay. I need to talk to someone. If I don’t, I will more likely than not be okay, but sometimes the knives are sharp and I can reach the gas valve next to the godforsaken washing machine.
So it’s good to hear you tell me that I matter. That you love me. Yes, this is self-serving. And even as you’re telling me I matter, I’m reaching for the valve on the gas to the dryer. As you’re telling me to put the knife down, I’m figuring out my next steps. And I’m sorry.
Today isn’t the day, and I know you’re tired of hearing about it.Someday will be the day when I won’t bother you anymore.