Well, this might be an odd post. Then again, it might be an all too common post. If so, thank god I’m not the only person fucked up in this manner.
I was walking home from an event (Sorry Ben, I wasn’t walking out on you, I just needed to think and walk my thoughts off) and I was thinking of a friend of mine. She had a tough day at work and, while I’m not the person that really should be helping her through her troubles, I felt I should, as a decent human being. So as she was tearing up with frustration at her situation, I was trying to think of what to say. She means a lot to me, in an odd way since we aren’t the best of friends (we’ve never really had a chance to talk much, primarily due to my reluctance) and, well, she’s a woman which means my social ability with her is zilch, reguardless of relationship status, but I still wanted to help her out because she strangely does mean something to me.
What did I find?
I had no fucking clue on how to deal with it. Not because I didn’t feel hurt by her pain, but because I didn’t CONNECT.
As I thought about it on my way home, I realized that I really don’t connect with anything.I have one really good friend. The kind you only find once in a lifetime. Even with him though, I don’t really connect with him on any meaningful level, he’s just the one person that is enough of a balancing force to me for us to connect on a fairly superficial level. The rest of my friends, and don’t get me wrong, they ARE friends, don’t really share a connection of any kind with me, at least on my end.
My main thoughts though weren’t about the few friends I have. They drifted to my late grandmother and grandfather. My grandmother was a sweet heart. She showed me love where none was owed, primarily because we didn’t see each other often. However, the fact that she showed me such love should have meant something to me when she passed. It didn’t. Literally, the first thing that shot into my mind was “Well damn, no more home cooking when I go to Dover.” With my grandfather, her husband, passed away, I went to the funeral. Really though, I didn’t go out of remorse, I went out of a feeling of obligation because I didn’t make the funeral for my grandmother. I felt nothing while I was supposed to be “honoring” him.
I was thinking of this, primarily in my failed attempt to comfort my friend, and realized that my biggest fault is possibly my apathy. It’s not that I don’t want to care. I LONG to care about something. It’s just that I never have. If someone has a hard time, a bad day, is in a financial crisis, or dies, I really have yet to come across a situation where I actually CARE. I want to, but I just feel empty. I always feel empty, but I feel even more empty when something happens that should evoke some sort of emotional response from me.
This post isn’t really going anywhere, I just needed to get that off my chest. The only place I might have wanted this to go is a general question to my few readers.
Does my inability to, for lack of better words, give a shit mean that I am a bad person?
I’d like to think I’m a good person. I try to do the right things. I never intentionally screw someone over. However, I have always been under the impression that the ability of one to feel was what made one human. If that is the case, what am I?
Is the fact that I’m even worried about this a sign of my humanity, or is it just another means to justify that status?