Fine

Life

“I’m fragile not precious. There’s a difference”. I stop where Lulu is concerned. Walking on eggshells versus pushing for more dialogue. I’m going to start gently nudging in times where “I’m fine or it’s fine” doesn’t ring true.

Simone Lisa

It feels so cliché to even write about this…

I’m fine.

How often do we say it? How often does someone ask, “How are you?” Barely a day goes past without these social niceties. The attendant at the service station, the telemarketer on the telephone, colleagues at work, friends on Facebook, my kids, husband, father. Everybody asks. They all get the same answer.

I’m fine.

Except when they know I’m not. Then I say,

I’m fine.

They want something concrete. Something to clarify what’s going on. A sentence or two to explain the exhaustion in my eyes and the sadness in my voice. But I don’t know how to say it. I don’t even know the answer myself.

How do you sum up a sense of despair or hopelessness in just a few words ? How do you tell those that love and care for you, right now you’d rather go…

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