Permission to Not Be Fine

Denise Was Fine. Everything Was “Fine.” Denise woke up already tired. Not the “I didn’t

sleep” tired — the I exist and that’s exhausting tired. Her alarm went off, and she stared at

the ceiling like it had personally betrayed her. “Okay,” she said to no one.

“We’re doing this again.” Denise believed in small, daily lies.

I’ll get up in five minutes. Tomorrow I’ll eat healthier. I’m fine.

She rolled out of bed and stepped directly onto a Lego. She did not own

Legos. Which felt rude. In the bathroom mirror, she examined her

face — the same face she had yesterday, but now with added exhaustion and what she was pretty sure