From time to time I think about the direction of this blog, it’s theme and content. I do question sometimes how vulnerable I am putting up with it because this blog is LITERALLY my personal diary. I guess I don’t care much about vulnerability because someone out there might relate to things that occur in my life that I write down here and maybe benefit from it. I really don’t care.
I laugh sometimes of how “lonely” my blog posts are because most of them address problems of depression and excerpts of the crap that goes on my head to cope up with the said depression. But then again I don’t care. I just really don’t.
Personally I think that great stuff evolve and just doesn’t happen then and there. Like great ideas may come randomly but really is just a result of whatever you did that day thus leading to it. So everything evolves – like the human race, movies with really stupid mind turning “WTH?” plot twists and confidently on my part this blog post.
So I guess I’ll tell you why it makes no sense to care. I’m not talking the kind of care you have for your family, close friends and loved ones. I’m talking about that care you have for what people think about you, the care you have for how you should be with the type of people around, the care for past and the future, the care that messes your head up.
I can relate to this because deep inside I battle with it everyday. Care. I could be called (but not anymore) the nice guy and even at some point I was so nice that I was questioned *in my dialect* “Baket ang bait mo?” or “Why are you so nice?” by this random girl that I had no affinity for, socially (No hate though). I’m battling with it right now, between those who can’t relate and would read this vs those who don’t. Expression vs Repression.
It makes no sense to “care” because it stops us from evolving. Stops us from being human because of the limits we put ourselves and on our intuition and belief in ourselves. This is what makes us human. I realized this a while back and since then I stopped caring.
I stopped caring because I wanted to feel more, be in tune with my own happiness. To do what I WANTED because I wanted to do it because it made me happy.
I’m sick of caring of how different I am in this place, of how people obviously treat me differently, of how lonely I get, of how people sometimes just suck, of how IT’S MY FAULT that I can’t run a conversation (but upon further speculation it really isn’t mine because I know I CAN TALK WELL), of how my future would end up like. I’m done caring. This is why I stopped caring.