“How are you?”
“Good! You?”
“Good.”
A masterpiece.
Two people have successfully exchanged absolutely no information.👀
We say “How are you?” with the same emotional investment that a microwave has while beeping. It isn’t a question anymore. It’s a verbal CAPTCHA proving you’re socially functional. If you actually answered honestly, society would blue-screen.
“How are you?”
“I miss my cat. I miss my dog. They’re both dead. I have to work tomorrow. I’m exhausted. My lungs hurt. And I still haven’t figured out why adulthood feels like paying bills while waiting for the next inconvenience.”
“Oh…”
See? You broke it. That’s not what the script was.
The correct answer is “Good.”
Even if you’re standing in CVS buying antacids, tissues, and melatonin at midnight while quietly mourning the person you thought you’d become.
Good.
Then there’s my favorite:
“Thank you so much.”
So much?
Really?
If I hold the elevator for you for three seconds, apparently I’ve made a sacrifice comparable to donating a kidney.
“Thank you SO much!”
You’re welcome. I suffered tremendously pressing that button.
We’ve inflated gratitude so aggressively that we’ve accidentally made it weightless. “Thanks.” “Thank you.” “Thank you so much.” “I really, really appreciate it.” We keep adding adjectives like we’re trying to compensate for inflation.
It’s the linguistic equivalent of printing more money until each bill is worth less.
Now the same phrase is used for someone who forwarded you a PDF… and someone who literally stayed by your hospital bed.
Everything is “so much.”
Nothing is.
Language is weird.
The more frequently a phrase is repeated, the less meaning it contains.
It’s semantic erosion.
Words aren’t murdered.
They’re loved to death.
“I love this coffee.”
“I love this TV show.”
“I love these socks.”
“I love you.”
One sentence contains caffeine.
The other contains your entire existence.
Good luck figuring out which one.
I think that’s why silence has become so expensive.
Silence can’t be automated.
Silence can’t be copy-pasted.
Silence forces you to actually notice another human being instead of checking the “interaction completed” box.
Sometimes the most honest response to “How are you?” is simply sitting next to someone without asking anything at all.
No script.
No mandatory optimism.
No corporate-approved emotional settings.
Just… presence.
Terrifying, isn’t it?
I think we’re all actors trapped inside conversations written by people who died centuries ago.
“How are you?”
“Nice weather.”
“Have a good one.”
“Let’s catch up sometime.”
No, we won’t.
But saying, “Statistically, this is probably the last meaningful conversation we’ll ever have because both of us will become increasingly busy until one day someone posts a black-and-white photo of the other on social media with the caption ‘Gone too soon,’” is apparently considered too intense for the grocery store.
Cowards.
Maybe that’s why the rare people who ask, “No, really… how are you?” feel almost dangerous.
Because suddenly you’re faced with an impossible decision.
Do I continue performing my socially acceptable character?
Or do I accidentally become a person?
Most of us panic and choose the character.
It’s had more practice.
Language was never designed to tell the truth.
It evolved to let millions of emotionally unstable primates stand in line together without biting each other.
If that’s the case…
“How are you?” has been spectacularly successful.
It has prevented countless awkward silences.
It has also prevented countless real conversations.
An incredible achievement, depending on what you were trying to build.
But if I ever ask you, “How are you?” I mean it.
I’m not asking because silence makes people uncomfortable or because that’s what polite people are supposed to say. I actually want to know. If the answer is “I’m doing great,” tell me why. If the answer is “I’m barely holding it together,” tell me that too.
I don’t need the socially acceptable version of you. I don’t need the one that’s been rehearsed a thousand times. We only get so many conversations in this lifetime, and it feels like a tragedy to spend them exchanging words that neither of us means. I’d rather have one honest sentence than a hundred perfect ones.
And if I don’t ask, please don’t mistake it for indifference or bad manners. It’s almost the opposite. I just can’t bring myself to ask a question if I’m not prepared to hear the real answer. I’d rather say nothing than invite someone to perform the ritual of “I’m good” for my comfort. To me, pretending to care feels far ruder than quietly minding my own business. If I don’t ask how you are, it’s not because I don’t care, it’s because I don’t want to treat your life like small talk.
And one last request: please don’t ask me how I am unless you’re genuinely prepared for the possibility that I might answer. Not because I’m about to unload my entire autobiography in the cereal aisle, but because I’d rather skip the ritual than perform it badly.
We don’t have to interrogate each other’s emotional state every time we make eye contact. A nod is fine. A smile is fine. Pointing at the self-checkout machine and silently sharing our mutual disappointment in modern society is also fine. Just don’t ask a question if the only acceptable answer is “Good.” That’s not a conversation. So unless you’re ready to hear the real version, let’s save us both from running the NPC dialogue tree.🌲
And if you are ready… pull up a chair. This might take a minute.🥹