Hard to Care

I've found that anymore it's hard not to be totally apathetic to how people view me. In my past, I have definitely been an outsider. It wouldn't matter whether I was trying to be antisocial or not, because that's what I'd end up as. I wouldn't even be in the antisocial group of four or five people, I'd just be by myself.

Junior year of high school was the worst. By far. I'd just moved to the town I'm in now and of course everyone already had established friendships with people here. I tried networking myself out a bit, but being blind to clique restraints and stuff in the way that I am, I'd make a semi-friend from this group, one from that, so that they never spoke to each other and I was never with more than one person at a time.

The end result of this topped by my "mother" and I not saying anything to each other was that I'd speak ten words or less a day on average. I remember the day I decided to count. That first day, I didn't say anything to anyone. Other than maybe a yawn or profanity as I turned off the alarm clock, my mouth only opened to ingest food. A lot of the time people try to observe days of silence for whatever cause. They think it's hard to do and make a big fuss out of it, waving their hands at their friends and trying to sign it out, writing on paper. They would go insane not speaking for fully a year and a half, nor writing or signing.

Of course, I went insane, but the silence was something of a byproduct, not a cause.

There was a girl, Michelle, with black hair and brilliant blue eyes. Blacker than my hair, bluer than my eyes, birthed just like mine. Sometimes during my final weeks at her school she would smile brightly at me or try to take up my arm. Once she convinced me to go downtown with her after school, but I honestly never saw anything in her. She had a great spirit and I didn't want to ruin that by going into a relationship knowing that I didn't love her at all. I don't even know her last name, though I wish I did to look her up; she was such a nice person.

Something's different now, though. I'm not totally insane anymore. At least, I'm not seeing things and hearing things and lighting random shit on fire. Definitely not insane in that sense. But the silence is back. At first I made an effort to fight it, then I realized...I don't want to.

It's become too hard to care about people. Every time I give someone new a chance, they turn around and crush whatever bit of my soul I've offered.

I maintain that humans are disgusting creatures to be destroyed.

People on my good list who probably consider me alive:
Andy v1.0. Hank. Steve. Vin. Jeffo. Robert. Andy v2.0. Jesse.
Alyssa. Kristin. Stephanie. Sharla. Brooke. Thus far, Jes. Wendy.

People on my good list who probably consider me alive that I get to talk to a couple times a week or less:
Hank, but only online or through postal mail.

Through my isolation, I was at one time an unstopable force of chaos. I struggled with myself so much that when in a fight with another, I felt no blows and could not be defeated. Now, through my isolation, I am becoming an unstoppable balance of force and allowance. My lack of struggle as a blade of grass ensures that in the stronger wind, I will bend, but not break.

Meh. It'd be nice to have hanger-outers, I guess, but if I suddenly did, I wouldn't know how to behave. I'd have to totally readjust to a lifestyle involving friends that are physically present, you know, ever.

I see Brooke whenever I go to the orthodontist though, and she might be coming back to school here. That'd kick total ass; she's even more hardcore anti-human than me. I didn't think it was possible. If you handed her a baby, and gave her the choice of drop kicking it or handing it back, she'd totally drop kick it. But if you gave her a baby and a brick wall and the choice of drop kicking it or throwing it at the wall, she'd probably get stumped for a minute. Of course, we know that the only logical option is to drop kick the baby into the wall. With experience the answers come more swiftly, so don't worry if you didn't pick up on that one.

Totally off topic. See what happens when I get excited over something?

Speaking of excitement, why do I always get stuck at the shittiest position at work to train people who've only been there for a week or less and have no idea what they're doing? I totally lack enthusiasm, then my manager tells me some bullshit about how they put them with me because I'll train them right. I always say it's because they love the intonation of my voice (I'm totally monotone, if you hadn't noticed. I'm a robot) which conveys my obvious shining excitement (I frown all the time, if you hadn't noticed. I hate humans).

That manager honestly loves my sense of humour. It's kind of creepy when an American enjoys my sarcasm, honestly. She grabs my ass though, sometimes. I really wish she wouldn't, but I'm fairly certain she's one of the only reasons I still have a job there. Because, like she said, "You do a great job...when you decide to show up."

I remember watching Office Space with a couple friends when it came out, and there were three of us so we picked which of the three main guys depicted us best. I was the Indian dude who cussed a lot and got angry really easily, which I guess suited me at the time. If those two guys and I had to pick now, though (which we won't because, to those of you who know the names, they were Seta and Gain), I'd defintely be the relaxed as shit guy who just really doesn't care anymore.

It's become too hard to care about pretty much anything I don't have to care about. So I'm not going to anymore. When you stop and think about it, most of what you really care about isn't because of an inherent motivation to care, but because you've chosen to care. Grades, work, certain people, certain issues. If you're really stressed about so many things, it's probably your own fault.

Winging it never really works for me, but, you know, I don't care. I'm still going to wing it.