I am not OK today.
Not even close.
The weight in my chest won’t lift,
and the silence in the room feels louder than any scream.
I woke up already tired,
heart heavy with things I can’t explain.
The kind of ache that doesn’t bruise the skin,
but leaves you limping anyway.
I smiled when I passed people—
that polite, practiced mask.
They didn’t ask.
And I didn’t have the strength to say,
“I’m drowning in plain sight.”
I am not OK today,
and I’m tired of pretending I am.
Tired of saying “I’m fine”
just to make others comfortable
while I unravel quietly
beneath my own skin.
The world moves fast,
but my soul is stuck in slow motion—
grasping for calm in a sea of noise,
for peace in a storm that hasn’t let up in days.
I want to be strong.
I want to rise,
but some days strength
looks like staying in bed,
breathing through the fog,
and surviving until the next sunrise.
So no,
I’m not OK today.
But maybe that’s OK too.
Maybe there’s courage in crumbling,
truth in tears,
and healing in being honest
about the hurt.
I will hold space for this feeling.
I won’t run from it.
Because even on the days I break,
I am still worthy of love,
and still learning how to give that love
to myself.
