Three short lines, and they hold a strange tension. The speaker opens with a blunt confession: "and no I'm not okay." The lowercase start and the "and" make it feel like the tail end of a longer conversation, as if someone has finally stopped pretending after being asked one too many times how they are.
Then comes the twist. The speaker turns to "my dear" and asks them not to believe anything they say. It's a puzzling request, because it undercuts the very confession we just heard. Maybe the speaker is afraid of burdening someone and wants an escape hatch. Maybe they're so overwhelmed that their words can't be trusted. Or maybe they're quietly hoping the listener will see past the words and care anyway.
The mood is fragile and tender, with a hint of exhaustion. The softness of "my dear" sits against the raw honesty, and the poem leaves us unsure what is true.