Till Hell Freezes Over Poem by Kim Aouad

Okay. Fine. No, I am not okay. I won't lie and say I am. At least not anymore. I am not okay. I may look like I am. But I definitely am not. Emotionally not okay. Physically either. All this time of keeping things inside has come to an end. No more lies. No. I am not okay. I feel my heart aching more and more everyday. It's like the more days that pass the more pain I gather. I feel a biological pain in my chest, caused by emotions, those of despair and grief. They are no longer satisfied by taking over my thoughts and sentiments. They have dominated my body as well. I often am unable to stand up - literally. I feel that the brick on my chest is also a chain-and-ball keeping me a prisoner of stability. No. I am not okay. I'm tired of hearing things like, 'everything is gonna be okay' or 'time heals all wounds.' There are some things that time just cannot simply heal. Time is not a magician. 'Time' is something man-made (the definition of time; the amount of seconds in a minute, minutes in an hour, hours in a day...) Which means that you can't actually define time. So quit giving it the illusion of being a doctor of some sort. I always thought I had more time - which maybe is one of the reasons why I am hurting to this extent, these days. I never made the best of the 'time' I had. So I didn't make enough good memories. And the ones I have already started fading away. And this is causing even more pain. 《Don't say it will get better. Don't tell me time will heal. You may have good intentions. But you don't know how I feel.》 No. I am not okay. I don't think I'll be, at least not anytime soon. After all, nothing is gonna be the same, ever again. I just burst into tears, right now, while writing this. For a million reasons, and not just one. It's really difficult, trying to put feelings into words. Some feelings, like what I'm feeling at this specific moment of 'time', are way too deep to express with different combinations of 26 letters. There are not enough words to capture this feeling and frame it for others to see, interpret, and conclude.. Not enough answers to this one question drumming in my head: why? It seems that tears are my only real friends; they never leave when I am not happy. No. I am not okay. And I don't think I'll ever be the way I was, until hell freezes over.