Lately it seems as though we are all asking each other how we are doing. Even if we saw each other a few hours ago, the previous day, or had been communicating via text all weekend long, the question remains: How are you doing?

Maybe it's because repeating this generic question makes us feel normal, and right now we feel so out of place that we would do anything to feel stable, to not scream. Maybe it's because the semester is winding down and we feel the need to constantly make sure that everybody is staying afloat. Maybe it's because we are wishing for the day when we finally hear somebody say that they aren't "Good" or "Fine" or "Okay" because we feel so broken and alone, and all we want is to say, "You know what? I feel pretty sucky too." Or maybe it's because we are wishing for someone to say that they are actually feeling absolutely fantastic, and they want to help you feel the same.

Maybe.

Because when I ask you how you're doing before my English class at 10:30 a.m. on a Monday, I want to hear that you're just as tired as I am because you, too, stayed up all night editing a paper. And when I ask you at dinner on Tuesday, I want to hear that your family is just as crazy, just as stressful, as mine around the holidays and that as much as you want break to start, seeing them is slightly terrifying for you too. And when I ask you on Wednesday on my way to my third class of the day, I want to hear you say, "We are half-way through the week! We are almost there! We are so close! So strong!" And when I ask you on Thursday after my final class of the week, you do not have to even say a word; just do your half-smile I know so well, shrug your shoulders, and sigh, and your thoughts will express themselves.

I say, "I'm fine" like you, and "I'm good" like you, and "I'm alright" like you, but in reality I have so many feelings that I might just overflow with thoughts one day. I might tell you that I'm really nervous for my final exam, or that I'm really proud of the project I'm working on, or that I've been having a tough time preparing for an in-class presentation because of my anxiety. I might talk about a shared experience, something on campus that's causing a commotion, so that we can exchange opinions, angers, tears, and musings. Or I might tell you about something personal that's been eating away at my chest, something outside of school, family, and work: raw, honest, open.

Maybe.

Someday I wish we wouldn't rely on times of stress and serious events to ask one another how we are doing. Someday I hope we could stop giving surface-level responses. One of these days, maybe I'll tell you how I'm really doing. Maybe you can tell me about you, too.