I was less okay than I looked

Dear Delyara, That’s the whole entry, really. I was less okay than I looked. I replied normally. Worked normally. Ate normally. Smiled normally. Even laughed once. And all day there was this private emotional pressure behind everything, like I was one small disappointment away from tears and trying not to make that anyone else’s problem. The older I get, the more I understand that functioning and suffering can coexist perfectly well. That’s what makes invisible pain so hard to explain. There is no obvious emergency. Just a person who looks normal while carrying too much.