Very well, but..

One day, my cousin texted me and said, more or less, "Listen to this song." And then he sent me the song. It was a girl singing with a guitar, and the song was not familiar. It was beautiful though.

Then, just like what I always do everytime I discover a good song, I quickly googled it up. Wikipedia said, it was a popular old song, composed by Hoagy Carmichael in 1939 based on an old poem by Jane Brown Thompson. And here is the lyric, read carefully.

I Get Along Without You Very Well

I get along without you very well,
of course I do.
Except when soft rains fall and drip from leaves
then I recall
the thrill of being sheltered in your arms.
Of course I do,
but I get along without you very well. 

I've forgotten you just like I should,
of course I have.
Except to hear your name
or someone's laugh that is the same,
but I've forgotten you just like I should. 

What a guy,
what a fool am I
to think my breaking heart could kid the moon
What's in store?
Should I phone once more?
No, it's best that I stick to my tune. 

I get along without you very well,
of course I do.
Except perhaps in Spring,
but I should never think of Spring
for that would surely break my heart in two.

And I was like, what a poem! I don't mean to sound mellow or something, but it felt like reading someone's struggling after a horrible break-up, fighting one broken heart, and trying to feel fine when she's not. On her mind, she thinks she has moved on, while in fact she's not, just yet. Excepts and buts are sort of instruments to legitimate her feeling towards all of this moving-on things. And it got me thinking:

"Don't we sometimes act that way?"

Sometimes we pretend we're good, we try to believe everything's okay, while deep inside our heart there's uncertainty. We are just not really sure about what we feel.

Denial, denial, denial.

I'm not saying that we should give up or something, it is probably more like, why don't we sit back and admit that we are not fine?

Anyway, despite the ugly things, well done, Thompson, for describing how it (most likely) feels...