I have noticed something.
I rarely mean it as much as I do when I’m asking you,
“How are you doing?”
And I usually mean to ask you –
- Tell me about the darkest night and how you lived through it, since we last spoke.
- Tell me if you have had any nightmares, and what they are about.
- Tell me, are your limbs in order? Do your jaws work alright? Can you blink at regular intervals?
- How are your parents? Have they showed you recently, how much you mean to them?
- What about your friends? Do they check on you, when you’re deeply hurt and immersed in sorrow?
- What’s the most fun you have had recently?
- What rules have you broken? How did you like that?
- Tell me about that time when you dealt with your inner demons like the warrior your soul is. You thought this moment would never arrive! – yet, here you are.
- Tell me, have you kissed any girls recently? How did they taste? Did they use their tongue?
- Have you bared your soul to anybody lately? Did they understand you?
- Show me your skills, your hacks, your latest tricks! What sort of jokes do you tell lately? Can you still make me laugh? Can I make you?
- How are you doing at work?
- At night, a while before you fall asleep, what keeps you awake?
- How have you been nurturing your body? Have you discovered anything new about how it works for you?
- How have you been destroying your body? Tell me about what drives you to do that. While you are it, show me where it feels like a mortal wound. I swear I’d take away your pain if I could.
And lastly, I mean to ask you –
- Do you ever think of me? Why? When? For how long? And what does your heart say when such a thought flickers, even momentarily. I daresay that a thought of me could stand a barrage of ones that are about life mundane, but for how long I wonder, does it manage to sustain? Or rather, do YOU manage to sustain it?
Don’t just tell me you’re fine. That breaks my heart. I want to know. I care.
Until next time, old friend.