She asks me if I am fine. I force my lips to a curve and say, 'Ya, I am great. How about you?' She begins her stories about her life so filling yet all the small little misfits. But my mind has already drifted to the deep treacherous pits. 'Fine'. What is it? If it is not crying myself to sleep every night, then yes I was fine. If it is being ok amidst people with dreams in their eyes, then yes I was fine. If it is about laughing at the jokes others crack, then yes I was absolutely fine. Why then did I have to fake, 'Ya, I am great. How about you?' Every night closes yet another day. A day that started with 'why, oh why'. I tried to stay busy with the things that don't matter. Things that don't remind me of the pain & that take me farther. Each breathe, each day is a struggle. A lie that tells you 'everything will be alright'. Illusions too many, mirages plenty. Where I am, as lost in the day as in the night. B...