Monday, January 04, 2016 Edit This
Caring is weird.
A huge proportion of the time I just don't care. I'm not sure if it's the sertraline or if it's just me, but I've grown pretty comfortable with not giving a shit. I had a conversation fairly recently with my former friiiiiend about how neither of us gives two shits about anything right now, there's minimal guilt for any "sins" and little regret but we also discussed how we both occasionally have these moments of worry where we ponder a future in which we do start to care and regret any "sins" and think of them as mistakes.
I seem to operate through these cycles of inertia in all aspects of life and then panicking and feeling momentarily guilty only to get really upset and hate everything, especially myself and then finally to give up on hope and go back to not doing anything and being inert. It's exhausting in many ways but I suppose it's better than the panic and self-loathing pendulum I was swinging on before...
I wonder sometimes if these "sins" are worth it? If I gave up parts of myself to feel free? This doesn't really make sense. But for instance with that kiss, the memory of it is so bitter and laden with disgust at myself and there's no longer any pleasantness to remember, and so I wonder was it worth it to give that up? I feel 14 year old me would be disappointed in myself. I worry that 34 year old me will be disappointed with some of my decisions too.
I don't know. Do I not care enough? Or care too much? How does one care exactly the right amount?