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.
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