"We are not fine," he said.
"Look at us
We have glass for where our eyes should be
And clocks in our chests
And we do not know how to look each other in the face because all we want to see is our own reflection.
We stick needles in our arms and pills down our throats
And we feel so alive
Even though we're dead and gone
But no one will tell us so because we have not learned how to speak our mind
Merely because there is nothing in them.
We will cry over breakups and teenage love
And we will use tissue after tissue and chocolate after chocolate to soothe this pain.
Yet no one will dare speak about divorce
Because by then we are adults and we should be able to handle it.
Pain has no age, and neither does stupidity.
Look at us.
We wake up in the mornings and wrap the covers tight around our bodies
Because maybe this is the only warmth we will ever receive
And then it is off to the life that we have been given
Not the one we have chosen.
In the end, when the sun has died out and we are all covered in darkness (although this is how we have always been)
We will look back and say that life was so wonderful,
That we accomplished so much.
But we are not fine," he said.
"We are just good at pretending that we are."