Honestly, Who The Fuck Cares?

image - Flickr / Leanne Surfleet
image – Flickr / Leanne Surfleet

Every month when I eventually get to sitting down and trying to write something. I can’t stop this one pesky question from popping into my head. “Who the fuck cares?” Really. The amount of partially finished articles sitting in my computer is kind of disgusting. I sit, I write a line, I’m excited and then I picture the comments. Some fucker indifferently says: “Who the fuck cares?” and then everyone else agrees.

Part of being a depressed person is having time periods in your life where nothing seems new and exciting. You may not be feeling that miserable I can’t get out of bed type of way, but your cynicism about the world is pretty similar.

The main thing throughout my life that has fueled and excited me is the internet. But lately I’ve been sitting around for hours just mindlessly flipping back and forth through the same tabs, feeling nothing. The articles that I read all seem to blur into one and nothing incites rage or excitement anymore. I wonder if it’s just me, or if the world does wax and wane online too?

I like to write at least one thing a month to push myself as an internet writer. I use the distinction of “internet writer” because I’m not really legitimate yet. I would never call myself an author, it’s pretentious if you write articles for a blog or website and refer to yourself as an author. You’re not a real person yet, shush.

Because I’m notorious I have to think very hard about what I want to write and what I can handle. I can’t do some dumb one-off thing just for money that I’m not proud of. I feel like I’m a little too earnest and serious about my writing and I’m sure in the comments all of you will give me shit for saying that.

I’m not going to try and bait people to read my shit. My last article only got so many views because it was about basic people and hipsters, the two most self absorbed groups. I gave them clickbait and they took it. People love to read about subcultures that everyone hates and mentally check off how they’re not like them. And isn’t that what is awful about the culture we’ve created?

Comments on articles are partially the best and worst parts of the entire internet writing experience. You can get a nice one about helping someone but for every nice comment there’s some asshole telling you to get off the internet, or telling you that you can’t write. Acknowledging their existence is like feeding the trolls, but you know you’ve created a bridge for them to live under so whatever. Who the fuck cares? Rant over. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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