Apathy

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I wanted to write a post about stuff I saw in the news recently, but I keep deleting them. It’s not that I stopped caring about such things or the people they affect. I just don’t care enough about how I express my thoughts.

That, and I don’t have the stomach to deal with the intellectual waste that gets mucked around. If I write about how silly it is for people to be afraid of trans people, I can expect some asshole to write me a riot act about how they’re a-comin’ for my pronouns. You know, as if language itself isn’t just a shared set of conventions on sharing ideas. Those poor, impoverished people using their languages might have to, le gasp, ask themselves if they’d like to express themselves differently.

Meanwhile, some states in my country are relaxing restrictions on child labor. Turns out the Victorian-era factories did some stuff right. Small hands are better for putting into caustic chemicals and waving around sharp objects. Since they’re young, they’ll just walk off any trauma or permanent injury.

Sometimes I just get weary of how everything has to be an improper crusade or a devious thought subversion. The Internet was supposed to be a place where people can talk with each other and expand their mental horizons. Turns out, more often than not, it’s the latest excuse to copy and paste your favorite talking points.

There are times when I’m curious as why this has to be. But that would involve having to enforce rules of civilized discussion. I don’t think people as a whole are ready for that yet. Even if I’m wrong, I just can’t find reasons to undergo the fatigue of trying to be responsible – and that’s assuming I even have half an idea of what it might be to begin with.

So, it’s apathy for me. I wouldn’t call it a comfort of not caring. It’s like a tranquilizer for caring about things. I wonder if it’ll eventually cause paralysis.