Oh who cares

It used to be that when I got tired everything was the end of the world.

I can't find my keys = I must destroy everything.
Joyous laughter* = I must slam things.
Touch me again** = Imminent destruction.
I have a lot of work to do = I think I'll cry now.

EVERYTHING is something that can cause an overreaction. I'm one more hour of missed sleep away from becoming a raving lunatic.

Well, I say used to be. Most of that is still true, but I'm finding that it's beginning to change ever so slightly. Where dealing with other humans only produces uncalled for angry outbursts, there is a nonchalance, if you will, that is sprouting up.

Lately, missing sleep has me seeking a more permanent resting place. No self-harm or anything. I'm just finding a rather acute awareness of my and everyone else's limited time on Earth.

You annoy me = One day I'll die.
Someone is hateful = One day they'll die.
Humans remain uncooperative = Still a 100% chance of death and being forgotten.
Telling me you are better than me = When we die, none of this will matter.

Things just keep pointing towards our similar chances of dying and being forgotten. In this state, I find myself repeatedly asking myself why anything matters. Who cares, right? As humans we are programmed to care about ourselves. In fact, the only reason we seek to correct others is because we feel it affects us. Isn't that right? What would it matter if I decide instead to not worry about any of it? We are all going to die. None of this will matter in the end. Who really cares?

I do, of course. I care, albeit from a completely selfish standpoint. I care and I won't realize it until I get some much needed sleep.





*Laughter, closely followed by music, is purely one of my favorite things in the world.
**Me upset over people touching me? I am constantly invading everyone's personal space. I have absolutely no ground to stand on with this and I know it.