“I’m not okay”


The words I really want to say when someone asks me how I am. Yet all that comes out of my mouth is “I’m good thanks, and you?” along with a forced smile on my face, because that is the answer that is expected of me.


Every time someone asks me that, I want to tell him or her the truth. The truth that isn’t pleasant to hear but it is honest and real. But I’m terrified.


Terrified of the reactions I will get if I let down my guards and let people get a glimpse of the hell I have created within myself. The hell that makes me feels so alone. The hell I have to endure with every passing breath.  The hell that I long to get out of, yet knows deep down I will never be able to ever really escape from.


I have been in it for far too long that maybe to a certain extent I have found some comfort within this hell of mine. It’s the familiarity that gives me some sense of belonging. But at the same time it’s killing me slowly. It’s sucking every ounce of hope and energy from me bit by bit. And I know it will continue to, until everything in me is gone. Until I no longer feel, I know it will never end.


Yes this is deep; it is rawest truth I have ever put into words. This is how I feel; it’s very dark and depressing. But it is a huge part of me. And at this very specific moment, the depth in which I have sunken to, have completely engulfed my entire being. The haunting thoughts of being all alone in this nightmare, that no one would ever come to my rescue, that even if they knew of it, they would run the other way instead of extending a hand.


To be fair, I know there are people in my life that might want to help me. But that is only because all they see is the surface of it all, just the fragments that have slipped through my very well guarded walls. They have no idea of what lies beyond the walls that I have painstakingly built. I hide behind it out of guilt, out of the fear of rejection, but most of all out of shame.


I am ashamed. Ashamed of how weak I am, of how weak I have become. I am ashamed of the fact that, I cannot help myself. That within me there’s a frightened little girl who wants to reach out for help. The little girl, who wants to be saved. I am exhausted from threading between the lines of wanting to ask for help because I cant make it on my own and of just giving up and surrendering to the overwhelming shame that pulls me down deeper and deeper into the abyss of this hell.


Most of the time the latter thought wins. I mean, how could I ever ask anyone for help? When I am the sole reason I am where I am. I created this hell within my own mind; I am responsible for my own imprisonment. How could I be so selfish to want to put this torturous burden on anyone else except myself?


So no. I will not ask for help. I will put on the perfect smile. I will reply with the perfect response. When anyone asks me how I am, I will silence the little girl within me, that’s screaming and crying for help. And with a smile on my face I will say.


“I’m okay”


Submitted: April 27, 2016

© Copyright 2023 Umaira R. All rights reserved.

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This hit me hard....

Great writing skills, and great job touching my heart.

Please write more! I want to read more of your work. You have a gift.

Sat, April 30th, 2016 12:15am

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