"Jenna, you ok?"
(tears streaming down my face, beggin myself to say no. . . to bother somebody for help. . . But I can't, so I just say. . .)
". . . Yeah. . . . I'm Fine. . . ."
(But I don't look fine, do I? Or maybe I do. Maybe my face hides emotions as well as my words. Maybe my art obviously doesnt show that I need company. Comfort. Help.)

". . . Just fine. . ."