a monologue...'what kind of human being would I be then?'

In between the good days, there are bad days.

Or should I put is this way: in between the bad days, there are good days?

Or does putting it like this make everything, even then, sound too affirmative?

- Everything, that is, in my life.

You see, people say to me when they meet me, perfectly innocently (I mostly assume), ‘how are you today?’

To which I wish to reply ‘not especially well’ (except I do not).

Nevertheless, I mostly assume they would pity me (if I told them I was unwell), and pity (and sympathy) are too often conflated in a person’s head (heart?) as love.

For they do not love me, otherwise they would never, or would not need to ask ‘how are (am) you (I)?’

They would know.

They would know I hate it (or is hate too strong a word?) when people ask me if I am OK, even if they do it out of innocence, or out of an attempt at being nice.

(I have spent my whole life in ruins because of people who try at being nice). 

I hate their asking/being nice (or think I do) because it only serves to remind me in a given moment, I am miserable (or think I am).

(And I occasionally assume an air of spite in their questioning).

And I have so much time on my hands.

And spare time is ruinous (Sundays in particular; not to mention Friday evenings drinking with friends, old flames).

I would work every hour of the day only if it were to avoid being asked the dreaded question, ‘how are you today?’ (to which I answer fraudulently, always).

Every – single – hour.

..But if I did where would I find the time to be miserable, to dredge up negative thoughts, to write this?

What kind of human being would I be then?