I don’t know how my story may sound to anyone, but I’m at the point where I feel like giving up. Every day, I wake up and go about my normal routine. I talk, I laugh, I do everything expected of me, but deep down, I feel empty. It’s like I’m here, but at the same time, I’m not. Nobody knows what I’m going through. Not my parents, not my friends. I don’t even know if I want them to know because I doubt they will understand. To them, I’m just fine. I’m living, I’m breathing, so everything should be okay, right? But it’s not. It hasn’t been for a long time. I have mastered the art of saying “I’m fine.” It’s the easiest way to avoid long conversations, to stop people from asking questions I don’t want to answer. It’s become second nature. Even when I feel like breaking down, I still manage to smile and say, “I’m good.” But in reality, I feel like a walking corpse, alive on the outside but dead inside. I don’t even know when I became like this. It wasn’t always like this. There ...
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