I am not fine. I am messed up but am functional today. I had a dad who excelled at creating roadblocks towards my progression of becoming an independent adult. His final touch towards this legacy was to let COVID into his life and die. Easy to do. Don’t take the vaccine then chose the assisted suicide route. Absurd. Perhaps. He was consumed with jealousy. But at least he was modern, I must grant him that. This last touch will only last so long I remain a lung scientist. The rest maybe a bit longer. One thing is for sure, fifty percent of himself will always remain with me, at least deep down. On the surface little has been established. One of advantages of trying hard to be a non-dad; there are few memories of his presence in my hippocampal world. I was proactive from the start and never acknowledged much his part of him. As a child you need your parents even just for the basics. I knew that but all that changed once you have the courage to forge their signatures. Suffice to say that I had an early start with that. I changed the pace after becoming 18. They knew that. The game was picked up. Fight to the death. This was not just pretend play any longer. It was real. Had to breakout of confinement, escape lobotomy or ECT, dodge military police and other authorities, go into hiding, even slept deep into the woods and smuggled myself through borders. I stayed put so long I could and when not, I moved on. At least I have seen places. Where does that leave me now. Well, I don’t care that much in being that perfect domesticated man. Oh, I excelled at it when young. You couldn’t find a tidier child room in the village. Intensive training thanks to my mother. I am the male version of Cinderella. I guess my father struggled with tidiness always and my mother made sure I didn’t but over-compensate. Nowadays, I am not that tidy just enough but I can feel that there are only some tidiness genes in me, those from my mother probably. So, I am not that tidy and trying to preserve the little wild remaining in modern masculinity. So, I have a property that needs more attention and what has life in reserve for me? Another property that will most probably will come messy since my mother passed on thirty years ago. Life’s little ironies. So, living domestication without conflicts is on my immediate agenda. As reaching the “fine” level of existence, I doubt that this level is at arm’s reach in our modern capitalist world. Being fine has become nothing but an illusion that the corporate world has learned to exploit and have rendered this level even more distant, even unreachable. So, am I fine? The straight answer is no but by reaching out towards the right services for a small fee, I can only say I am messed up but I am functional, today.