I’m Fine.

It started off as a wince. 

The feeling of uselessness. 

Of not being wanted or needed.  

Give it to me. 

Give me everything. 

So what if I can’t handle it? 

So what if my bones physically crack under the pressure? 

What do you mean someone else is meant to handle it? 

I’m fine. 

What do you mean? 

My knees always shook like this. 

That tightness in my stomach? 

It was always there. 

I told you already 

I’m fine.