Some days I am okay, I am sitting in my kitchen eating chips and making a healthy dinner and laughing about birds and dogs and good things. And some days I am not okay, and my insides are jelly and my brain feels fuzzy and I want to tweese out the wasps inside of me and have to convince myself at stop signs not to just drive into the middle of the road and wait for the end of it all - the trouble is, they look exactly the same. I am sitting in my kitchen eating chips and making a sandwich and nobody can tell I’m falling to pieces.