Fine. I am fine. It’s an easy answer…an easy lie. Fine – not too bad but not really good either. You will get away with it, because it’s too lukewarm to raise any concern and not overwhelming enough to make anyone uncomfortable. And really, I am fine. I just hope this isn’t as good as it will ever get.
Not enough happiness
It seems that all everyone does nowadays is complaining – about their lousy job, their insufficient salary and the fact that there is never enough money to spend. Life is hard and it keeps getting more challenging every day. Everyone seems to either have a crappy relationship or a lonely single life, noisy parents and friends who just don’t get how fucking difficult everything is. We are all so sad and so alone and there is never enough money on our bank accounts to buy us happiness.
Not enough risks
So maybe it’s better to be fine. It’s the polite way of not complaining. The political correct way of putting things into perspective – there are so many whose life is so much worse than yours. Fine means you’re somewhat okay. It means standing on that thin line between happiness and sadness, standing perfectly still so you will not trip and fall down. Until that stillness begins to cripple you.
Not enough life
I figured I was fine. That everything would be just fine from now on. But it’s not. And it hasn’t been in a very long time. Standing still means allowing it to get worse every day, stealing away a little piece of happiness every time. It’s not about money, or a broken heart, or a job…it’s about everything. They say happiness is contagious – but so is sadness. If you leave it unattended for too long it will poison everything: Your thoughts, your fear and eventually your life.
I think I’m done letting it poison me.