You Look Great

I look great. That’s what you’re telling me anyway. Oh, I know you don’t mean Beyonce-great. You just mean I don’t look sick. Great. I shrug. “I feel pretty good,” I reply. But, you don’t see the uncivil war inside; can’t know that I am wishing with all my might, to crawl out of my skin and get as far away from my body – – my battlefield – – as possible.