Writers 
There was a period in school when I became very good at saying, “I'm fine.” It became a mantra.
I wasn't fine. I just didn't want anybody to know that I was broke. It started with the little things like, I stopped buying food outside, started walking places I would normally take a bus to, I even became strangely interested in staying in my room.
If someone said, “Let's go out,” I would suddenly remember something I had to do.
“Maybe later.”
“I'm tired.”
“I have something to read.”
Sometimes I actually did had something to read, other times, I was just broke.
One afternoon, I was with a few friends when someone suggested we go and get food. I immediately said "no, I'm not hungry.”
One of them looked at me, “But You haven't eaten since morning.”
“I'll eat later.”
“Later when?”
Then I laughed and said, “I don't know. I'll figure it out.”
We kept walking. Then they started discussing what they wanted to eat, and I joined in the conversation like everything was normal.
“Which one are you getting?”
“I don't know yet.”
The truth was, I knew exactly what I was getting and it was Nothing!
I was already calculating the money in my account in my head and the expenses I had to make for that week.
If I bought food now, I would have to walk back.
If I spent money on transport, I couldn't buy data for studies.
If I bought data, I would have to figure out surviving food for that week.
It was one of those ridiculous calculations where every option was somehow the wrong option.
We got to a restaurant in school. Everyone started ordering what they wanted. Then someone turned to me and asked, “What do you want?”
“Nothing.”
She frowned, “You're not eating?”
“I'm okay.”
She looked at me for a few seconds. Then she said,“Okay.”
I thought that was the end of it. A few minutes later, the food arrived. She took her plate, looked at me and pushed it slightly towards me.
“Eat.”
I laughed. “I said I'm not hungry.”
“I heard you.”
“Then why are you giving me your food?”
“Because I don't believe you.”
I didn't know what to say.
She didn't ask how much money I had.
She didn't ask why I couldn't afford food.
She didn't make that face people sometimes make when they realize you're struggling.
She just kept eating and said, “Eat before I change my mind ooo.”
So I did. And I remember feeling two things at the same time. Relieved and embarrassed.
And no, my friend did not do anything wrong. I spent so much time trying to make sure nobody noticed. I had convinced myself that asking for help meant admitting I wasn't doing well.
So I became very good at pretending. I was never hungry, I preferred walking, I didn't really need anything, I was okay, always okay.
It was only later that I realized how exhausting that was.
Sometimes pride doesn't look like arrogance. Sometimes it looks like saying “I'm fine” because you don't know how to say, “I'm actually struggling right now.”
And I think that's one of the things school teaches you without putting it in any textbook.
Everybody is carrying something. You just don't always know what it is. The person laughing beside you might be worried about money. The person who keeps turning down food might have no money to buy it. The person who suddenly stopped coming out might not be antisocial. They might simply be trying to survive the month.
And sometimes, kindness is noticing without forcing someone to explain. That day, she never asked me what was wrong. She just noticed.
And for some reason, that meant more to me than if she had asked. Because sometimes the hardest words to say aren't, “I need help.”
They are: “I'm fine even when you're not."