"I’m fine"

But am I fine?

Because I don’t feel fine,

In this body that isn’t mine,

Stuck within a rotting mind.

If everything was fine, then I wouldn’t be screaming all the time.

My hands wouldn’t be shaking and my palms wouldn’t be sweating and my heart wouldn’t be beat, beat, beating

Out of my chest.

I cannot rest,

For my lungs are on fire and my head's underwater and I’m screaming louder because

I

am

drowning,

Sinking farther and farther to the ocean’s base.

Tears staining my pale, sweaty face.

I feel like a complete disgrace

As I sit,

Waiting,

Wanting,

To scream out.

But I can’t.

His hands are wrapped around my throat and my voice in a locked box across the room and

I can’t move

Or speak

Or see.

The world around me is a sea

Of dizziness and colored confusion

That I am forced to live in.

“It will pass,” I say to Him. “You’ll be gone.”

But as time goes on,

His grip grows tighter, hands pressing against my chest and I can feel His breath

On my neck as I try to scream

But I am silenced

If this is “fine” then why is the room spinning and why is my heart squeezing and why am I breathing so fast?

This cannot last

Oh god, this cannot last

But that is on the inside,

For outside I am calm and quiet.

It looks like I can fight it,

Right?

Wrong. Because inside I'm trying to, screaming louder and louder but He

Won’t

Let

Go

He is fire

And I am ice.

And as I see my breath visible in the air around me,

My tears freezing into snowflakes,

He melts me.

Until He is snuffed out.

Where did He go?

Oh god, is He coming back?

No, not today. Maybe not tomorrow, either.

But soon.

He always comes back.

I gather my voice from the box across the room,

Twisting the key

With delicacy.

Trying to breathe

Finally able to see

To speak

My mom asks where I’ve been.

“Right here,” I reply.

For it was true.

Physically, at least.

But mentally, He had captured me.

Maybe just for a few minutes.

But those few minutes seem like decades when you can barely breathe.

My mom sighs.

She knows I’m not alright.

But I insist that I’m fine,

Really.

Can’t you see my smile?

Hear my voice?

Feel my touch?

Sure.

But I am still cold.

I have yet to be thawed.

She kisses the top of my head and we both resume play.

But I am still up in space,

Tenderly touching bruises He left behind on my face

And my throat

And my heart.

But I have yet to fall apart.

My hands are now knives,

And I’m still alive.

With serotonin coursing through my veins, I’m ready to strike

Back this time. And the next. And the next.

Maybe I’ll always be at war.

But I can fight Him with more power than before.