Apathy

I know. It’s terrible. It’s the scourge of the starving class.  Of the leisured class, working class, grocery cart class. It rides with those other gallivanting mysterions of the apocalypse boredom, indifference and the fine old wine of ennui.  It’s motto is in English.  Do Nothing.  Who cares?  Why bother?  It’s awful.  I hope you don’t catch it from me.

I try to keep myself interested by fantasizing about doing something.  You know.  Taking action.  Jumping up and getting on with it.  But that doesn’t even always work.  Thinking itself can be a bore.  Sometimes you just want to be an inert lump of goo because it’s all just too much.  Everything.  It’s impossible to conceive of the gargantuan effort it must have taken to get this far.  You must have made it because you’re here. But you’re certainly not interested in doing anything further.  No way!  Forget it!

Apathy’s so predictable.  You know it can’t last forever but you can hope.  But hope isn’t quite the right word because that itself would take some effort and that’s the last thing you want.  And it’s not like you might as well be dead because then you’d have no appreciation for the apathy that has you in its grip right now, as you live.  You can appreciate something without making any effort at all, so that’s no problem.

The question remains what is the way forward?  Or it could be if I wasn’t too lazy to ask it.  Nice try.  We’re not falling for that one.  I’m not budging until I know what’s going on here.

Talk to you soon.  Nudge me if I nod off.

Author: Steven Brown

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