the back of my neck is tight, always is, like i'm bracing for something even when there’s nothing coming… she asked if i was okay, and i almost laughed, almost said i don't even know what okay feels like anymore, or maybe i know it too well and that's the problem, that i’m too practiced at being okay when everything inside is buzzing, like a broken fluorescent fixture, that hum that never shuts off, never lets you sleep. she wouldn't get it, not unless she'd sat on both sides of this desk, felt the weight of other people's worlds pressing down, and still had to make rent, still had to pretend everything wasn't a goddamn performance. the words almost came, a floodgate threatening to burst, but instead i just smiled, that practiced, empty smile, and said, "i'm fine."