Still wondering...

You're supposed to care. 
About life. 
In some way.
It's supposed to mean something to you.
To live.
You're supposed to keep wanting and trying to do that.

You try to connect with people, and pretend that things have meaning or impact any more than some artificial, ephemeral, momentary set of chemicals firing synapses lighting up neurons and assuring you that yes you do feel and care and for once maybe, or at long last it finally matters in even the most cursory and selfish way.

But it doesn't.
You don't.
Those moments and people go by and they have no more meaning 30 seconds later when out of view than they will in death.

We can all pretend and even get good at it and forget even to ourselves how insipid it is.  Or you can spend your waking and sleeping hours with a million different voices telling you every moment of every day how long ago you stopped caring, when you stopped believing, or trying, or finding a reason to fight and carry on, and now your existence is largely a product of resigned apathy that your lack of motivation has become so ingrained you no longer can bring yourself enough to care to change it in either direction.

You're supposed to care.
But I still can't see why on earth I need to anymore.