How are you?

This is for you.

Who cared enough to ask. who thinks to visit, who simply says hello.

I think if ever I were to answer someone truly, to that hollow "how are you" question we volley to each other, it would be you. I see this reflection of, I don't know, something; perhaps aching and lonely, in your eyes. I wish I could fill your cup with joy, even if my own is sadly wanting.

And I do want. I want to paint with my hands on large and inviting canvas, I want to write silly words that don't connect but that touch upon all these strange places I travel inside myself. I want to scream in the forest and hurl insults upon unsuspecting trees, and beg them for their eons worth of wisdom. I want to touch their roots and feel connected.

This is how I am. I want freedom from the illusion I find myself trapped in. I want to live in skin that invites others to touch and hold. I want the ache in my heart to speak its truth to someone who listens.

This is how I am. I have gratitude for the asking. Tell me your own truths, and let me hide inside them.

This is for you, who cared enough to ask, who says hello.

I am fine, my friend, how are you?