‘I’m Fine, Thank You and How Are You?’

‘I’m fine, thank you and how are you?’: an innocuous, ubiquitous sentence in which so much of the tragedy and loneliness of our lives comes to rest. Because we’re not – of course – ever remotely fine, and nor is our questioner. We’re longing to speak about so much: the sorrows and confusions that torment us, the wrong turnings we have taken, the longings that haunt us, the love that eludes us, the mistakes we need to be forgiven for. It is typically also the greatest honour and relief to learn of the many ways in which they, too, are in pieces. It gives us a role; it makes us feel less ashamed. It liberates us from the punishing isolation of politeness.

One of the ways to think about what ‘art’ is – a medium that includes poems and novels, of course, but also YouTube films and blog posts – is as a forum in which creators and their audiences can finally commune over a range of secret, bitter truths: the private agonies for which daily life has no room. Here at last, there need be no more pretences; here at last, we can scream as much as we need to.

So, in a spirit of modest artistic expression, in order to pause the hypocrisy for a moment, here are some of the many things that – of course – are not ‘fine’ at all, for you or for us.

—  If you’re tempted to give up entirely, we know.

—  If you’re losing your mind with sadness over someone you loved many years ago, we know.

—  If there’s no one in the vicinity who remotely understands, we know.

—  If you despise yourself, we know.

—  If you’re furious, we know.

—  If you’ve been searching in vain for love for an age, we know.

—  If you’re worried, we know.

—  If you’re wracked by loneliness, we know.

—  If you sometimes sob uncontrollably, we know

—  If you can’t see a way forward, we know.

—  If you’re far, far more desperate than you’re ever able to tell your friends, we know.

—  If your mind is full of traps and whirlpools, we know.

—  If you might long ago have put an end to everything, were it not for the pain it would cause others, we know.

How are you doing today? Terribly. How are you? At wits’ end. How are things? Catastrophic. All of which is more than fine. It’s the secret baseline. Turmoil and pain are where we all really dwell. I’m not OK, and you’re not OK either – and that’s more than OK.