I used to say I was fine so automatically that I didn't even register I was lying.

Fine became my default.

My go to. My protective coating.

Fine when I was exhausted.

Fine when I was overwhelmed.

Fine when something had happened that genuinely wasn't fine at all.

I got so good at fine that I stopped being able to access what was actually there underneath it.

And my body, which had never learned to say fine and mean it...

Just kept speaking the truth I wouldn't.

In the only language it had left.