Fuzzy Logic

A famous song goes this way:

"Feelings... nothing more than feelings... Trying to forget... my feelings of love"

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It is so hard to answer that simple question "How are you?" without either feeling like I'm not being entirely truthful, or not being entirely succinct. How do you sum up a whole baggage worth of roller-coaster emotions into a supple little paragraph? How do you say the right words, without saying too much, and not sounding like you're copping out of a simple question?

"Fine, I guess."

Wrong answer. It invites more questions.

"You guess? What do you mean? You're fine but not exactly?"

Perhaps "Fine" would have done it. But when your heart is worn on your sleeve, when your face is the reason for your failure in poker tournaments, you know you aren't getting away with a simple answer.

Which is where I face my biggest problem: explaining. No words can fully capture absolutely the emotions that I've felt, or the stupid thoughts that I have thought about. Something can be both true and untrue, much like in fuzzy logic.

I am both happy and unhappy. Happy that things turned out well. Unhappy that things didn't turn out the way I wanted them to.

I am both sad and not sad. Sad that more than 2 years is taken to finally see the inevitability of a disintegration. I'm not sad that it finally dawned on the more courageous one to take the penultimate step towards separation.

I am both surprised and not surprised. Surprised that it had to come during a period of time when nothing registered on the 'danger' radar, that the seas looked calm and winds didn't deliver torrential rain. I am not surprised; we have been living in the eye of the storm for too long, calmly cruising along in the centre of the maelstrom that is a malformed union.

I am both frustrated and not frustrated. Frustrated that my efforts towards keeping the flames alive for the past 2 months were wasted, that it seemed like nothing I did over that period created any impression at all. I am not frustrated with you; the issue had to be dealt with sooner or later - it was just the timing of it all.

I am both resigned and not resigned. Resigned that I'm just not the one right now; resigned to the notion that the attraction isn't there anymore. Not resigned to the fact that someone might be better out there, for no one is a perfect match, ever.

We are friends but not really friends. Friends we were when we first met and friends we return to. But that special moniker known as 'ex' is tagged forever, unless unlikely circumstances alter that hard-to-accept reality.

We forge on - friends.