finefinefinefinefine

I smiled at you weakly. Said I was fine. Just tired. I wondered what tipped you off. What made you ask if everything was okay. Did my face slip for a moment? Did the pain shine through my eyes? Did the corners of my mouth drop a micrometer too low?

I wasn't lying. I really was tired. I'm always tired. In several ways. I'm tired of life for one thing, I am also literally exhausted from both stress and lack of sleep.

Okay maybe I lied a little bit.

I'm not fine.

On one hand I want you to know I'm not. I want you, expect you, to see through my lies. On the other hand I am terrified for you to see through them. Terrified you'll keep asking me. I especially dread that, God forbid, you'll worry about me.

I'm perfectly fine.