"How are you?"

Inevitably in every conversation, this question pops up. When I was younger I used to make it a point to not give a boring answer. I cringed and rolled my eyes if they replied with shitty, routine answers (ie; "im ok", "good. u?"). I would even accept "could be better if I could have your sexy ass" as an answer (and my answer would depend on your... eligibility). What I couldn't tolerate most were people who give boring answers, which would irrevocably lead to a death in chemistry. Your body how hot also no use lar!

Ok, admittedly that last line was a lie. I would probably keep the chemistry going for a longer time, increasing in a linear fashion (learnt this while writing my psych lab reports woohoo I can has sounding smart!) according to the amount of abs you have. But we would eventuate into nothingness in the end anyway, since even back then I was never THAT shallow to keep afloat what was only supported by purely superficial means. (And when I say eventuate into nothingness I meant hot guy and me in bed eventuating into my..nothingness.)

When asked how I was, I gave a frank (and usually TMI) answer of what I was really feeling. Not to everyone, of course, I give the ones I don't want around the boring answers I despise (but they seem to stay anyway), but to those I wanted to build something more than "nothingness" with. 

So that meant that that simple (so many thats, cool right?), asked-out-of-obligation question was reciprocated with long-ass, overly-dramatic answers. The kind that involves every exboyfriend gathering and making out with each other and then spiking drinks and stabbing this back and that guy's back and getting cheated on and being played and your dog dying. Only two out of em' all actually happened btw. It's 6am I'm allowed to make shit up.

But that was then, and this is now. I guess I have grown up. (Or jaded, one or the other.)

"Oh, I'm good. Yourself?"