yellow sticky note

i no longer want you asking if i'm okay.

i'm tired of answering "yes."

my words don't sound like my own anymore.

maybe they're not.

maybe i've forgotten how to process my own thoughts and craft my own ideas.

i borrow lyrics and conversation starters

try my best to sound okay.

i'm afraid that if i start sounding bad again,

my parents will do everything in their power to "fix" me.

maybe i'll let them.