How Are You?
My iPhone buzzes twice real quick. Just the thought of receiving a text almost makes me physically sick. I glance down at something I don’t want to pick up. Whoever thought of me I just want to stick up. I convince myself that their contacting me is just a mix-up. Human interaction has gotten more painful as the clock continues to tick. A thousand thoughts in three seconds as my empty mind starts to turn thick.
I stare at my phone blankly like it’s something foreign. I gaze into it like it’s a void in which I’m about to fall in. Something that has the ability to calm me or send my anxiety soaring. I read the words in front of my eyes. A simple question takes me by surprise. Then I read the words again. A third time read before I start to formulate a message back to send.
Three words a flake of a friend typed to me. But they aren’t the words of affection you assumed they’d be. How are you? His sudden interest in my life has raised my suspicion. How do I answer that question? What do I choose to mention? And what do I choose to keep at my own retention? I can feel the mixture of depression and obsession start to draw up some worthless aggression.
I could choose to be honest and open up. Allow him to take a look at my life close up. I could explain how the past few days my head has wanted to erupt. How I’ve looked at myself and only felt disgust. I grind my teeth thinking, and outward my jaw juts. Lately, my mind seems to send me spiteful signs while screaming in voices that are far from kind. I fear that if I answer honestly, I won’t get the loving response that I had in mind. I feel I may never escape the continually conversing that makes my own cranium become paralyzed in a bind.
I’m reminded of my remorse and the source of my self-loathing when I read this text over once again. I know I shouldn’t bore someone else with my internal struggle, because I really don’t want to hear their forced rebuttal. They never know how to respond so they all say the same thing. I’ll be here for you through anything. Whether it’s fall, winter, summer, or spring. But each time I reach down to reach out and give them a ring, I usually hang up before even hearing the voicemail sing.
I’m too afraid to want to better myself. I’m too insecure to actually ask for some help. I’ve given my own skin bruises believing I don’t want better health. I feel like I have too much loss to deserve better wealth. There’s a storm in my head but I can’t seem to change the weather myself.
I shouldn’t be upset at the world, it's not their job to fix me. I convince myself I’m not loved. A mystifying way my mind plays tricks on me. So it’s easier to drown in my tears pretending I don’t have issues with reliance. It would tear my ego down to ask for some simple help and guidance. Deep within my soul, I have a demon saying the call for help will only be met by silence.
So I’ll answer this simple query how I do on every other occasion. I hope the tone in my text offers enough persuasion. So no questions of concern arise that threaten a further invasion. I’ll lie and say I’ve been doing so good. I’ll say we haven’t seen each other in a while but we totally should. I’ll say I’m too busy next week but I totally would if I could. I wonder if he knows I’m just spewing lies. I hope my words put on a good enough disguise. I hope the real emotions deep inside are never recognized.
About The Author
Mackenzie is a freelance writer that creates stories describing the struggles of battling with various mental health issues. From experiencing depression and anxiety herself, she is very passionate about helping others realize they are not alone and that they can overcome any obstacle they are facing. To check out more of Mackenzie’s work and her upcoming projects, visit her website or follow her on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook.