How are you?

JRhein Poems

They asked me how I was as required at the beginning of all conversations and I understood too late that the question had already been answered before it reached me so when I spoke it was an error in procedure I said I have not been well I said there are thoughts that repeat themselves without permission that remain longer than they should I did not raise my voice I did not dramatize I simply submitted the truth in its unedited form there was a pause which was not recorded and then acknowledgment without reception he said he understood which in practice meant the matter was closed we moved on to acceptable subjects places plans later always later and I followed because there was no alternative path he left soon after not abruptly not in violation of any rule just at the appropriate time and afterward I learned through indirect channels through careful phrasing through the administrative language of friendship that I had exceeded an unspoken threshold “a bit much” “heavy” “not always the vibe” these are not accusations they are classifications and they are sufficient to determine placement therapy was mentioned once not as a solution but as a relocation as if there exists a designated office for thoughts like mine where they can be processed without disrupting the general flow I have not gone not because I refuse but because the act itself requires a certain strength a capacity for initiation which I seem to have misplaced or never possessed and so the matter remains unfiled circulating internally without resolution I have since adjusted my responses to align with expectations “How are you?” receives “I’m good” this is considered correct this produces continuity invitations remain intact no one leaves early no one makes note and yet there persists a secondary awareness that honesty must be scheduled contained or redirected to institutions equipped to absorb it I consider whether friendship requires this translation whether truth must always be reduced to remain admissible or whether the failure lies with me in my inability to convert experience into something lighter more portable more easily ignored there is no conclusion only a gradual understanding that inclusion and accuracy rarely occupy the same space and that for now I lack the strength to insist on both