Poetry

I’m Not Okay

   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.

3 thoughts on “I’m Not Okay

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