Never do I have a definite answer when someone asks me if I'm okay.
Or if someone asks me what's wrong.
Or anything like that.
You get the picture.

I try to answer, but the phrase "I don't know" fumbles out of my mouth thirty times in a row before I actually can think clearly enough to form a response.
Cool, right?

If I knew what was wrong, I would tell you.
Point blank.
I'm not shady, or sneaky.
I'll tell you what's going on.

If only I knew.