I realized today that there's nothing that could make me care about much of anything in the world. I'm so damn used to every path in life that I tend to already know what the end'll be plus a good dose of just general apathy towards everything spurned on by depression. I can't get excited about anything these days anymore and I'm more forcing attachment than having any real affection or emotion for anything. And I'm tiring quickly; 90% of any day is just an internal monitoring of my emotions to stay as close to stable as possible. "No, don't get too excited! You might lose control. Well, now you're just getting depressed; you'll feel like shit if you keep at that. Get interested in something to pull yourself out of the rut." And repeat; it's fun.
The thing I've always struggled with was whether I could have motivation without some sense of a goal. I've said before how most things have to be literally processed in my head rather than instinctively done like for most people. I've always halfway wondered if what had become internalized for me was emotional responses not based on social cues from people or expectations from society but, instead, a clear purpose in my head. If I could make a solid argument as to why I should do something or believe something, I responded fine. But those days I didn't have anything to do (like convince people of an argument or try to stem some sort of social ill (sexualism, sexism, etc.), I've always felt listless. Life itself couldn't make sense to me. It's weird. As if life was supposed to be some sort of puzzle with an answer.
There's a conversation I had once over IM with Laura where we were discussing Dan, to which - at the end - she remarked, "Not that you'd want to talk about this." In response and being nice, I told her, "It's fine." She thanked me and said - as she has multiple times before this - that I was too kind to her.
I laughed and said, "It's my job." She told me she was being serious, to which I immediately responded, "So am I."
There's a reason I seem to inflict trust in those I never thought I made an impact on yet and that all my friends of about 5 years trust me without hesitance. I give. As a habit, as a duty. And I don't ask in return. I almost never complain, I solve my own problems, and I forgive three times over. It's my job. While certainly not everyone (I would say a minority) has taken advantage or just simply taken and then asked for more or just taken off, I'm not surprised that people would. As you all might've garnered by now, I generally don't have a high opinion of the human race (well, in certain areas). I expect people will be crap. The difference is I still give them the benefit of the doubt. And I've known some wonderful people.
So I play watch-guard. I'm there to swoop in and fix the problem if I can. I'm there to calm you down regardless of the shit going on in my life. I'm there even if it takes 6 months or more to make sure you get back on your feet. And I'm there to offer you redemption if you need it, to tell you, "Pick up again and start over anew. No point if you don't do things right the next time."
That's my job amongst my friends and they recognize it. I don't expect any kind of award or to get the happy ending in the end. I talk people together and make sure they actually communicate they want to be together (because they'd be too shy, God knows, otherwise), I help talk out the relationship problems, I help you get over the breakup, I get you the support you need for your addiction, I make sure the wrong people don't find it out, I mend the friendship problems - it's my job. And I'm perfectly fine with that, so long as I have use. So long as I fix something, so long as I'm making a difference.
But I'm losing whatever touch I apparently had; I barely know what to say these days to help. And you're all getting old now. And you're figuring out how to take care of yourselves. Or you're just old enough that you'll survive (and learn your lesson at the end of it). I'm not particularly needed anymore. And I'm readily seeing that I'm becoming a relic. I'm that paper weight in that only moderately-entered room that you're always glad to see on your desk because you've had it so long but, were it to go missing, there'd just be a reminded twinge of sadness every time you passed by.
That's part of it. That apathy that drains the color of everything as well.
I'm not leaving anytime soon, don't worry. We're parasitic creatures, really, particularly with life. We hang on out of instinct and fear and only once we're too damn exhausted do we question letting go. But I think I'll just be floating from now on. I just want stability, damn it. Give me a stable job that I can rely on being there the next day and keep me secure for a terribly modest living that let's me keep to myself a majority of the time (only coming out when called) and I might just keep my sanity. I said at the start of my senior year to grab life by the horns, take any risk, just go and find out the consequences along the way. And I've kept that up as best I could since. But I find the fear that makes me shy has found me again. I just want expectancy again and no changes. I just want to float, without even thinking.
Oh, hey, Freshman/early Sophomore year of high school all over again.
nt
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