In another time

I really don't like it when people ask me how I am. I never know how to respond. Every time I say I'm fine, or good, it makes me sick inside.

Why does it have to be so hard? Its true, love and care is just not enough. There has to be some self preservation somewhere. I grow tired of the charade. Communication in guesses and silence. An empty feeling, a lonely gesture, and I'm worn.

It was nice to see you smile.