Saturday, April 11, 2015

Eleven: I Care Too Much About Not Caring

Actually, this is the number one thing that brings me down to poetry.  If nothing else, poetry can handle distance.  It's necessary.  People on the other hand, well...

I'm not a good friend and I don't think I'll ever will be.  Not in the sense of closeness anyway.  It's because I don't care.  I don't care to visit or inform about my life.  I don't care to call or send check-up e-mails.  These are little things that sustain any type of relationship: family, friends, romantic, whatever.

Or at least this is what's been told to me by many people.

I've read many goodbye messages and letters to me, but I never cared to write one to any one else.  Most of the time it comes down to "so that's how it is" or "normal people communicate" or "you're a selfish asshole."

Actually, I wrote a goodbye once -- "if this is it, thanks for the good times."

What it comes down to is that I don't fight for any type of relationship.  I'm really complacent.  If someone says he/she doesn't want to talk to me, I take it face value and move on with my life.  If I don't hear from someone for years I think to myself, "I hope he/she is doing all right."  Contacting people crosses my mind, but I tell myself, "they're probably busy, I'm going to work on myself."

Poetry, the art form, can handle my complacency.  Weirdly though I fight for poetry -- sending out to places, taking on debt to learn more, contacting editors for things, making sure I had dedicated writing time, spending three years at PCSJ, spending two years writing a poetry blog (roughly).  I fight to stay connected to an art form.  An art form.

I don't know why.

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