I am not broken.

It is true, in the here and now, that I’m not okay. I am, in fact, so stressed out that I whipped my smartwatch into a wall when it buzzed for the seventh time in one minute while I was trying to make dinner. I have nerve pain radiating up and down my side from the shingles that never really go away anymore.

This isn’t who I want to be, with all the worries on my mind driving me away from a sense of peace. As much as I care, and violently want some simple answer, there aren’t any that start with just get over it.

Whatever It is.

Voices at war, like nails on chalkboards, driving the itch in my brain to a twitch of my hands until the screams catch in my own throat, raw and swollen with the need to claw free. And another thing and another thing and another thing after that, around and around without end. Reward? More of the same.

What do I want? Useless to ask, no answers to give.

What do I need? What we all need, to be seen, comforted, told everything will be okay again, to know peace of the mind. Suspended in my blanket cocoon, my frump dragony fort with pup cuddled in, I can take this breath, too tired to worry about the consequences tomorrow after tomorrow after tomorrow. For today, I am in the now as I haven’t been able to be in some time.

I do have wishes, though… I wish to be kind. I wish to have air to breathe. I wish to show value and appreciate the qualities of those who move around me. I wish to laugh as myself, not from behind the Everything is Fine mask I’ve been wearing for too, too long.

We call them wishes when they seem unattainable, right? Where are the shooting stars and blue fairies when you need them?

I do know what I don’t want- I do not want to be fixed, for I am not broken. I do not need tools, I need rest. Rest of the mind and the spirit, acknowledging those failures that are mine and those that are not. Acknowledging the weights of responsibility and grief and regret and sorrow that are mine, and those that are not. I don’t want to be treated any differently for being human, as though I was a sick auntie and chicken soup cures all, but be sure to drop it quickly at the door so you can’t contract what I have.

Just let me be me. I will find my way back when it is time, and never love you any the less… there are no masks that would lie in matters of my heart.

The mask only serves to cover the pain and weariness I can’t carry anymore.