Speech/Poem/Rant/Truth/Life.

I'M. FINE.

I'm fine, Just Don't ask again, because the truth is I'm not fine and I'm sick of you and every other person asking. I'll never tell you the real truth. Do you even realize what's going on, what I have going through my mind ever second of every single day. I want everything to be okay like people say it will be, but it's still not Okay. Pretending isn't enough anymore and the emptiness I feel is real. It burns like a heat rash in July, and the Aloe Vera is expired.... I wish I could forget, forget everything that hurts and just be invisible. . . . I don't even know what I believe in anymore. Because the truth isn't what I'm reading and nothing will be the same. I can't close my eyes and feel safe because my innocent eyes have been stripped from the bubble, real things happen. Believing in writing will never be the same....  because the newspaper is warped from the lies that blend so well and nobody will ever know what the real truth is. So don't ask me how I'm doing, and don't say you know what I'm going through, because I don't know how I'm doing and I don't know what I'm going through. And the answer will always be the same every time. I'm sitting in algebra trying to find X, and the only thing i can find is 49000, because that's how maybe steps it would take me to get there. Then there's the 100 foot gap even after coming 245 miles, they want me to plug the numbers in and tell them the answer, but I have no answers, and I can't seem to focus. because all i can think of is the 30 minutes I get to look at you through a narrow screen. That's what sucks, visiting isn't actually visiting. It's stupid how going that far I still can't give you a hug, or hear your real voice. No because your apparently not a person anymore, But in reality no ones is human. We are all dying to shove someone under the bus. and here i am trying to find X because Y is missing him. It's days like these I wonder if god is a real thing, because why would god let you be away from us, and why would god make me feel so alone and why would god make the hurting worse. I wish I had an answer, I want to scream until this so called god could hear me, I mean really hear me. And I'd get my freaking answers. I don't even know what I believe in anymore. Actually that's a lie, I believe in poetry, and writing.... The creative kind because the newspaper is warped and nobody knows what the truth Is anymore. But I'm fine, really, but you're not supposed to ask me again.