Yeah, I’m okay. Just tired. Just stressed. Just so fucking depressed I can barely get out of my bed. My pale sheets draw me in closer every time I get up and I look in the mirror only to reveal my tangled hair and tear-stained eyes, a look I can no longer avoid. My anxiety overwhelms me like I’m getting hit by a riptide, and this time I don’t exactly feel like swimming back to shore. It’s time to face reality - I’m a hot mess.

But I’m okay.
Yeah, I guess I’m alright.