The Tests We Took

Out of all the tests we took, she said, the one I’m most worried about is your self-destructive tendencies and thoughts on suicide. I shrugged and gave a sheepish grin. I don’t need you to worry about me, I said. I could always ask myself why. Was it because of the numbness that never left my ever-cooling heart? Or was it the earsplitting pain that hit my brain like a strike from the clouds? Out of all the tests we took, she said, I’d consider keeping an eye on you. I looked up and began to laugh. I don’t need to be watched like a child, I promised. She wasn’t amused. Did she want a goddamn confession from me? Fine. I confess to being alive. To living alone, trapped in my head, under the greyscale sky. Out of all the tests we took, she said, I’m concerned for your safety. I glanced away with a bittersweet smile. I don’t want you to be concerned, I reassured her. I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.