You look terrible.

-Are you OK?

-Yep.

-Really? You look terrible.

-Oh, thank you, I love you too.

(No, I’m not OK, I feel devastated, I just want to cry, I don’t know why the hell I’m even here, I dream about killing myself every night, please help me find a way to tell you that I want to die, just telling you some of the things that are wrong with an ironic comment at the end has stopped being enough, I want you to know how broken I feel, I don’t care about the causes anymore, I don’t want to tell you what’s wrong, you know my world is a shit, but you don’t know how bigger it feels inside my mind. Please make me talk to you, make me explain to you the hell I’m living. I don’t know how.)