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What if I saw you today and you asked me how I am?

What would my answer be?

What should my answer be?

What if I gave a half smile and said, “okay?”

What if I said I’m not okay?

What if I’m fragile, too fragile to tell the truth?

What if people are tired of hearing me talk about it?

What if my friends stopped inviting me out?

What if I’m too hard to love?

What if every death compounded the effects of the first?

What if your tragedy triggers the emotions from mine?

What if your tragedy was our tragedy?

What if I didn’t have the right to have these emotions?

What if I didn’t have the right to share them?

What if no one owned the right to sorrow?

What if there is no monopoly on grief?

What if there were enough empathy for the abundance of despair?

What if I’m thinking of myself too much?

What if I’m not taking good enough care of myself?

What if the apathy never subsides?

What if I have to take medication?

What if I never feel happy again?

What if my faith isn’t enough?

What if I don’t trust Jesus?

What if I can’t stop crying?

What if the voices tell me all the things that I’m not?

What if the laundry is never caught up?

What if I don’t loose enough weight?

What if I don’t make enough money to live alone?

What if I never am healed from my illness?

What if I live the next forty years alone?

What if I’m too authentic?

What if I’m too real?

What if the voices that are supposed to love me don’t?

What if I hit publish and people ridicule me?

What if I hit publish and I’m fired for being too emotional?

What if I don’t?

What if someone is encouraged by my journey?

What if I’m healed by writing these thoughts out?

What if they’re healed, too?

What if we become closer friends?

What if?

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