![\"kikrooolocm8kc8co40ab4nhx6h0nlh7fv4rkoivrqvzsr15.png.jpg?w=1140&h=auto\"](\"https:\/\/images.teemill.com\/kikrooolocm8kc8co40ab4nhx6h0nlh7fv4rkoivrqvzsr15.png.jpg?w=1140&h=auto\")
What happens when we finally drop<\/p><\/p>
What happens when we finally drop<\/p>
the well-worn charade of saying we\u2019re \u2018fine\u2019?<\/p>
You know the routine\u2014\u2018fine\u2019 like a shrug,<\/p>
a handshake,<\/p>
tea when you wanted coffee<\/p>
but didn\u2019t want to make a fuss.<\/p>
That smooths over being human,<\/p>
just enough to keep the wheels turning.<\/p>
Peel it back, though.<\/p>
Strip away the niceties.<\/p>
What\u2019s left is jagged, untidy,<\/p>
loud in some places, mute in others.<\/p>
Obscene, almost,<\/p>
like turning yourself inside out on the bus.<\/p>
Still, there\u2019s liberation in it.<\/p>
You stop pretending.<\/p>
You start diagnosing\u2014not just with the DSM-V,<\/p>
but with memory, with metaphor,<\/p>
with the messy ledger of yourself.<\/p>
And even there, there\u2019s theatre:<\/p>
that need to be told your pain is real,<\/p>
officially real,<\/p>
by someone with a clipboard and very clean shoes.<\/p>
![\"kdesmramafdvfjifzsocec4yqfyj1rawrfeovykgxsqtyxvt.png.jpg?w=1140&h=auto\"](\"https:\/\/images.teemill.com\/kdesmramafdvfjifzsocec4yqfyj1rawrfeovykgxsqtyxvt.png.jpg?w=1140&h=auto\")
To be understood\u2014really understood\u2014<\/p>
turns out to be a high-stakes game.<\/p>
What if they don\u2019t get it?<\/p>
Worse: what if they look straight through you,<\/p>
nod politely, and move on?<\/p>
That flavour of loneliness\u2014being unheard\u2014<\/p>
isn\u2019t dramatic.<\/p>
It\u2019s domestic.<\/p>
Mundane.<\/p>
Like explaining a dream halfway<\/p>
and realising they\u2019ve wandered off.<\/p>
So you listen.<\/p>
Not just to the words,<\/p>
but to the silences around them.<\/p>
You catch the breaths before confessions,<\/p>
the shifts in tone that say, stay.<\/p>
Listening becomes mimicry,<\/p>
empathy dressed as attention.<\/p>
Language, though\u2014it\u2019s a traitor.<\/p>
My tongue sulks, trips over itself,<\/p>
as if it belongs to someone else entirely.<\/p>
Writing is different.<\/p>
Not comfort, exactly,<\/p>
more code-breaking.<\/p>
I squint at sentences like train timetables,<\/p>
looking for direction,<\/p>
hoping not to miss something crucial.<\/p>
The keyboard, though\u2014that I trust.<\/p>
Switches, blinking cursors,<\/p>
order in chaos.<\/p>
![\"jpq7ltmsmyhcb2u65lppienhe6gaybi9ivexkb8sm3mmurvv.jpeg.jpeg?w=1140&v=2\"](\"https:\/\/images.teemill.com\/jpq7ltmsmyhcb2u65lppienhe6gaybi9ivexkb8sm3mmurvv.jpeg.jpeg?w=1140&v=2\")
Then came photography.<\/p>
That was different.<\/p>
That was finally a voice that didn\u2019t stammer.<\/p>
The shutter click felt like punctuation I could control.<\/p>
In trying to find where I belong\u2014or mostly, where I don\u2019t\u2014<\/p>
I became an archaeologist of the self.<\/p>
Digging through coping mechanisms like old receipts:<\/p>
useful once, now clutter.<\/p>
There\u2019s grace in that,<\/p>
to sit with yourself when \u2018fine\u2019 would be easier.<\/p>","urlTitle":"fine-and-dandy","url":"\/blog\/fine-and-dandy\/","editListUrl":"\/my-blogs","editUrl":"\/my-blogs\/edit\/fine-and-dandy\/","fullUrl":"https:\/\/lostcampitos.com\/blog\/fine-and-dandy\/","featured":false,"published":true,"showOnSitemap":true,"hidden":false,"visibility":null,"createdAt":1735949525,"updatedAt":1756513462,"publishedAt":1756513462,"lastReadAt":null,"division":{"id":209850,"name":"Lost Campitos"},"tags":[{"id":2886,"code":"matteo","name":"Matteo","url":"\/blog\/tagged\/matteo\/"}],"metaImage":{"original":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/isext4xgwib9tdyrqgu0pkdbtdluux2cfbmwlvlqtpsufyoc.jpeg","thumbnail":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/isext4xgwib9tdyrqgu0pkdbtdluux2cfbmwlvlqtpsufyoc.jpeg.jpg?w=1140&h=855","banner":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/isext4xgwib9tdyrqgu0pkdbtdluux2cfbmwlvlqtpsufyoc.jpeg.jpg?w=1920&h=1440"},"metaTitle":"","metaDescription":"","keyPhraseCampaignId":null,"series":[],"similarReads":[{"id":24851,"title":"Love","url":"\/blog\/love\/","urlTitle":"love","division":209850,"description":"Artist Matteo Delred and writer Rebecca Mar\u00eda reflect on love. Exploring different types of love, as defined by the Ancient Greeks.","published":true,"metaImage":{"thumbnail":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/umrjnxs7qyv4mmajjpiopam85mxhwjzxx4c4dkt4pztfvz5q.jpeg.jpg?w=1140&h=855","banner":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/umrjnxs7qyv4mmajjpiopam85mxhwjzxx4c4dkt4pztfvz5q.jpeg.jpg?w=1920&h=1440"},"hidden":0},{"id":24941,"title":"Catching On the Fly","url":"\/blog\/catching-on-the-fly\/","urlTitle":"catching-on-the-fly","division":209850,"description":"Writer, Rebecca W Morris, and Photographer, Matteo Delred, capture thoughts and images at the train stops from Jerez de la Frontera to Cadiz on the Cercanias trainline. For each stop, one piece of writing is written and one photo is chosen. Seeing the same things they\u2019d seen so many times, but with new eyes.","published":true,"metaImage":{"thumbnail":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/hxf4vqbdejmlykd3ffgu1m8pfwvwi6xgvo0kqtnu50cygkce.jpeg.jpg?w=1140&h=855","banner":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/hxf4vqbdejmlykd3ffgu1m8pfwvwi6xgvo0kqtnu50cygkce.jpeg.jpg?w=1920&h=1440"},"hidden":0},{"id":25084,"title":"Listening To the Birdsong From My Caged Window","url":"\/blog\/listening-to-the-birdsong-from-my-caged-window\/","urlTitle":"listening-to-the-birdsong-from-my-caged-window","division":209850,"description":"Matteo Delred and Rebecca W Morris capture the urban melancholy of being separated from the natural world through poetry and photography.","published":true,"metaImage":{"thumbnail":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/7txvyg55ntk060bcks3mlugsnxi48onvirhfqfsftpnzp0ov.jpeg.jpg?w=1140&h=855","banner":"https:\/\/images.podos.io\/7txvyg55ntk060bcks3mlugsnxi48onvirhfqfsftpnzp0ov.jpeg.jpg?w=1920&h=1440"},"hidden":0}],"labels":[]}