I am okay.

I am okay

as I sit in the dark of my room silently screaming please kill me now

I am okay.

I am okay as I look in the mirror and pinch every bit of fat voices urging me to cut it off and let the blood spill so that I can die and my depression can win and no one understands that I am ugly and disgusting and unlovable and how can you not see that

I am okay.

I am okay as I watch Patch Adams make changes in people's lives and I know that I want to make lives better but how can I even do that when my own life is a train wreck, every car being derailed in staccato bursts and my tears running off my face like any positive thoughts I ever had about myself

mom can't you see that I am not okay all I ever do is sit in my room and watch gossip girl and I don't even like Blake lively and my thoughts are all over the place and I hate myself and I don't want to take my Prozac all I want is to take all my seraquil so this insomnia I call life will go away and I can sleep in peace forever and

i will be okay.