exhale.

Complain

So I know I'm not perfectly well...but I pretend I am. Most times.

Why?

Because I don't really like to complain.

Complain. Verb. To express dissatisfaction or annoyance about something.

In the times that I am in that sort of mood, I complain about little, trivial things with no real relevance or that could almost be funny in a certain light.

And I don't mean for them to be taken seriously, so in my mind it's fine. It's a joke.

But things that are serious, to talk about a problem I may have...that, to me, sounds like complaining.

Funnily enough, I don't see it as complain if other people are the ones telling me what's wrong, but as soon as I open my mouth...

So I stay quiet; I've often been told I'm too quiet in fact.

I'm always just fine.

Always okay.

But not really.

Rarely ever in fact.

There's always something not quite right, but you'd never know looking on from the outside.

Or maybe you can tell, and no one asks if I'm okay more than once out of respect...

Who knows.

Honestly, I could be walking around with a ripped muscle and not say anything, at risk of sounding like I'm complaining.

But the minor injuries, I joke about.

I know, that even this explanation sounds like complaining, like a cry for attention.

Why complain when I have so much to be thankful for?

Can't I just be content with what I have?

I don't know.

I'm not a very positive person.

I am my own worst enemy,

And this?

This, is complaining.

I wish i had a better plan but it so seems
that I don't know what the world wants me to do.

- Tom Rosenthal, This Road Is Long