Apathy is a strange creature
I find it hard to describe my current emotional state. Technically speaking I'm happy. I'm comfortable with the state of my life. I'm currently single, employed and taking a break from school. While I am the type of person who prefers to be in a relationship I'm ok without having one at this point in time. My job doesn't pay all that well and I dislike half of the people I work with, but I still enjoy it. As for school, while a part of me wants to be in class, furthering my education, part of me is also very unsure as to what to do with my life after school. I've always wanted to write. I'm not a great writer (I've said it before, I know.) and I'm sickened by what I read in the papers. There are no crusading journalists. There never were and there never will be. Newspapers are politically motivated and controlled and therefore are completely biased. Anyone who says otherwise is either lying or ignorant. So now I'm at a loss as to what to do with my future but really I don't care.
But despite all of this I can't shake this strange feeling that's been washing over me. It's not depression. I've been there and I can assure you this is more unsettling. I'd almost want to say it's an existential crisis, but again, I've been there. This isn't about "who am I?" or "why are we?" I can't put my finger on this feeling and define it and that troubles me.
So, let me describe the physical symptoms and why don't you tell me what you think.
1) The inside of my stomach feels hot all the time.
2) Sometimes it feels like the world is moving in slow motion and I have to stop and wait for it to catch up
3) I get cold chills and I feel like little bugs are biting my shins.
4) I can feel my heartbeat in my toes.
I should point out that I don't drink and I don't take any sort of drugs (neither prescription, over the counter or illicit)
Those are just the physical symptoms. I don't even think I could begin to go into what I'm "feeling". Is it that I just don't care anymore? No, that's not it. I do care. There's a woman that I love and I only want her to be happy. I know I'll never be to her what she wants or needs and I'm ok with that, but I still 'care'. I make it a point to be a good, nice person. I'm polite to the people I meet (even when I don't like them) and I go out of the way to help the people I do like.
Or is it that that isn't caring? Am I just trying to make my life easier to live? Would being a cocksucker make my life too difficult?
I've often wondered why I don't turn to armed robbery for my income. Is it because it's wrong? Do I find it morally reprehensible? Or do I fear the consequences? What consequences? Death? If I died would I care? I don't believe in an afterlife. Or more accurately I don't try to speculate as to the existence of one. Prison? More likely I suppose. But honestly what are the chances I'd be caught? Would I even serve time? First offense, no drug use, no history of violence. So why don't I do it? Is it a question of morality or simply a matter of motivation? Or is it simply a moment in my life where I've weighed the pro's and con's and made, what I believe, to be the best choice.
What is a work ethic? I've often been told that I have a "strong work ethic". I've just walked out of previous jobs. That's not a strong work ethic by my standers. But then again when I’m treated well I do work harder than I am asked, and without wanting or expecting further rewards. Does that just make me have a selfish work ethic though?
I’m not sure why I’m writing this. It doesn’t flow, it doesn’t fit together. Though it is flowing, in that it is coming in a constant stream from my brain to my fingers to my keyboard. I suppose that’s the point of a journal. To write what your brain spews forth. Is there any reason for this? To read it or to write it? Honestly I don’t know. Maybe in ten years I’ll look at this entry and wonder what the fuck I was on. Maybe in ten years I’ll look at it and be able to answer a lot of questions
But despite all of this I can't shake this strange feeling that's been washing over me. It's not depression. I've been there and I can assure you this is more unsettling. I'd almost want to say it's an existential crisis, but again, I've been there. This isn't about "who am I?" or "why are we?" I can't put my finger on this feeling and define it and that troubles me.
So, let me describe the physical symptoms and why don't you tell me what you think.
1) The inside of my stomach feels hot all the time.
2) Sometimes it feels like the world is moving in slow motion and I have to stop and wait for it to catch up
3) I get cold chills and I feel like little bugs are biting my shins.
4) I can feel my heartbeat in my toes.
I should point out that I don't drink and I don't take any sort of drugs (neither prescription, over the counter or illicit)
Those are just the physical symptoms. I don't even think I could begin to go into what I'm "feeling". Is it that I just don't care anymore? No, that's not it. I do care. There's a woman that I love and I only want her to be happy. I know I'll never be to her what she wants or needs and I'm ok with that, but I still 'care'. I make it a point to be a good, nice person. I'm polite to the people I meet (even when I don't like them) and I go out of the way to help the people I do like.
Or is it that that isn't caring? Am I just trying to make my life easier to live? Would being a cocksucker make my life too difficult?
I've often wondered why I don't turn to armed robbery for my income. Is it because it's wrong? Do I find it morally reprehensible? Or do I fear the consequences? What consequences? Death? If I died would I care? I don't believe in an afterlife. Or more accurately I don't try to speculate as to the existence of one. Prison? More likely I suppose. But honestly what are the chances I'd be caught? Would I even serve time? First offense, no drug use, no history of violence. So why don't I do it? Is it a question of morality or simply a matter of motivation? Or is it simply a moment in my life where I've weighed the pro's and con's and made, what I believe, to be the best choice.
What is a work ethic? I've often been told that I have a "strong work ethic". I've just walked out of previous jobs. That's not a strong work ethic by my standers. But then again when I’m treated well I do work harder than I am asked, and without wanting or expecting further rewards. Does that just make me have a selfish work ethic though?
I’m not sure why I’m writing this. It doesn’t flow, it doesn’t fit together. Though it is flowing, in that it is coming in a constant stream from my brain to my fingers to my keyboard. I suppose that’s the point of a journal. To write what your brain spews forth. Is there any reason for this? To read it or to write it? Honestly I don’t know. Maybe in ten years I’ll look at this entry and wonder what the fuck I was on. Maybe in ten years I’ll look at it and be able to answer a lot of questions