I’m Fine.

I'm an excellent liar.

So much so, that I believe myself

Believe the lie.

I'm fine.

Two words, one lie.

We say it all the time.

As if those words, a valid answer

To "How are you feeling?"

Fine is not a feeling.

Fine is thin, a fraying thread.

It's not enough.

Not nearly so expressive

To explain a life

A moment

Or even a fraction of time.

There aren't enough words

In a standard greeting

To express the trueness

of our emotions.

I am not fine.

I've never been.

I'm not always miserable either.

I live in some sort of grey inbetween

Where happiness dwells

And misery follows.

And some days I feel both.

But I'll never say this out loud.

Who has the time for these truths?

We pass like transients

Throughout each other's lives.

The world's too busy.

Go ahead, ask.

My answer will be "I'm fine."