Today, I am the reaper.
Not because I carry a scythe, or because of the gothic wardrobe of black robes and masks. Really, I’m more of a drama queen today.
Today, I am the reaper because I am losing my voice. Honestly, any time my mouth creaks open, it sounds like a damned voice echoing throughout the halls of hell.
I have a friend who has called me the reaper since the first time we met. It’s because I collect secrets of those I care about, those I spend time with. It’s not easy to hold conversations for me. I don’t see the point in small talk, in “I’m fine’s” and “Everything’s great!”
It’s not true. It could be, but knowing the current population and state of this Earth, not everything is great, and not everyone is fine.
Another friend, who is now my best friend and someone I love, once explained to me the difference between “I’m okay” and “I’m fine”.
Okay is a state of being. Okay is okay. Okay is believable, is true, is the right thing to say only if you mean it.
Fine is a mask. Fine isn’t true. Fine, no matter how many times it’s repeated, remains insincere.
I say I’m alive. I’m not okay, and I’m not fine, but I’m doing my best to breathe throughout the haze of high school and the choking veil of anxiety that shrouds the face of a girl who is learning how to grow up.
I’m growing up. I’m alive. I’m okay. I’m fine. I’m the reaper.