"Are you okay?" you ask me in a concerned tone, empathetic eyes peering into mine. I reply, seemingly surprised that you have asked "oh! I'm okay!" says a perky voice. You don't look though, you don't look deep past my broad smile to see my pain filled eyes. You don't look hard enough to see. But that's okay, it's only because you don't really care how if I'm okay, you just want to look good because there are people watching you speak softly to the quiet girl sitting in the corner by herself. As you pat me on the knee and stand up I watch you saunter back towards the curious onlookers, see the pride in your face as you think of what you must have done for me. I watch you and whisper
"no, I'm not okay, I'm dying inside"