On Caring

This is a topic I’ve debating on writing about for a while, but never really felt I could get the words out. So I’m going to word vomit all over the place, try to edit it later and see how it looks. I tried to include it in some of my other posts just to become sidetracked with something else. The gist of it is this, I have a really hard time caring about people.

In an earlier post, I talked about how I saw myself as a liar, a pretender, and a fake (See: On Lying). I still feel this way about myself and my apathy towards others is part of that reason. I try my hardest to pretend to care about people. It consumes most of my effort on a day to day basis. It is a big effort, but it’s an effort nonetheless and often I find that most people in my life don’t want to put in that same effort to me. I’m not sure if that’s an accurate observation, or if my depression is kicking in, or if I’m just dense as fuck. The point is that I feel like I’m not worth others to care about.

I can’t even express those feelings in a natural way, instead having to resort to writing a blog post alone in my room at 10 p.m. in the silence of an empty house. I don’t mind being alone, in fact most times I cherish it. Despite this, there are times when I want to be surrounded by others, others that I’ve attempted to care about to see if they care about me as much as I’ve tried to care about them.

“We should hang out”
“I miss you”
“Why don’t we talk more?”

I hear these all the time, and I try, I really try to communicate better with others, but of my friends I can say that most of them wouldn’t properly put in that effort with me. I am sadly human, and most of the interactions that I do want are with people who don’t attempt to interact with me. It’s stupid, it’s illogical, and it keeps me up at night hugging my pillow and wishing desperately that someone will notice without me having to say a word. I didn’t grow up hanging out with friends from school, and while that was my own choice it left this void inside of me not knowing how to properly communicate those things.

Yet even when I do magically communicate it properly, I’m so afraid to commit to an activity that I’ll find a reason not to go. After the effort of communicating, planning, and caring, I’ll still find a reason to decline. I think some of that stems from me noticing that I’m given more praise when I do things out of the “kindness of my heart” rather than a sense of obligation, but more on that later (probably). It’s hard for me to give a definite yes, or even sometimes a definite no.

I want to care, but I wish it wasn’t so exhausting to attempt it. I want others to care about me, but I don’t want to have to always be the one to reach out. I want to see my friends more, but I’ll find any excuse not to go. I want, and want, and want. And now, despite this being solely text made, all I want is sleep because caring about my inability to care is also exhausting.


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