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And What About You?

Careful what you ask for.

By es .pennamePublished 5 years ago 2 min read
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Let me tell you all the things. Please.

As a kid, I thought my life was pretty mundane. Books and TV (so my entire world) were filled with drama and adventure, and people doing things. People who had stories. This saw me develop a bad lying problem. I lied about everything to everyone, just to seem cool. I tried to convince my second grade teacher that my brother, who was at the same school, in a different grade, and absolutely everyone and their mom knew who we were, was my twin. A twin that just happened to be three years older. Kid logic.

When I grew up a little though, the pendulum swung hard the other way. Now, I am a truth-teller. I am quicker to tell the truth than my middle name, or kick you when you hammer my knee.

Let me tell you right now, as much as people champion honesty, these same people may just be liars.

Personally, I enjoy being asked how I am. I’ve got quite the range of emotions that I go through on a daily basis, and someone wants to hear about it? Well hot damn, buddy, you better pull up a chair. But then, as soon as any word except fine or okay appear, there is a deep, painful, VISCERAL, I’VE JUST SHATTERED THEIR SOUL INTO A BILLION LITTLE PIECES reaction splattered all over their face. Or, well, the mouth relaxes a little in the corners, the eyes might wander. Maybe I am projecting?

It is known that Americans tend to ask how each other are in greeting as a passive pleasantry, a nod, or small wave made out of words. We can’t be bothered to have the desire to KNOW these things, because ew, feelings, or whatever. You aren’t me, so I care about you why? It gets us where we need to go. Except when the freak show takes the stage (points for naming the reference!) and people like myself come along, telling the washer repairman that they’re actually not feeling super great since they got back from that trip, or being so over-the-moon that it is sickening, because that hottie at the store noticed them—that they smile WITH TEETH when they say “I’m great!” like Tony the Tiger’s cousin who might have a slight dependence on uppers, to the only other person at the bus stop.

The worst part though is that I know. I could even go as far as to say we all know. There is a difference between answering someone’s facetious question with a real answer, and straight over-sharing, however. At least in the former, we probably know that we are overstepping social norms. Over-sharing though, yeesh. In the immortal words of our time, ain’t nobody got time for that.

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