I haven’t been okay for a while, but that’s okay. I know how to get by on not okay. I can survive stepping on broken glass and lit cigarettes and smiling through unbearable pain because that’s what life is.
At least to me.
Harsh, and brutal and I can’t help but feel every ounce of it. All of it just hits me over and over and emotions pour out of the holes in my armor and I don’t cry. Because it’s okay.
Just breathe through it.
Get by until next time. I know how to do this. It’s familiar, a routine I survive by. I can even succeed at it, this ironic habit of just being alive when I feel dead.
I’m not okay, but that’s okay.
I know how to get by on not okay.