I locked the door behind me as I was leaving for work yesterday morning. a thought flashed through my mind: “I should quit my job today.”
and I won’t.
but I wanted to. not for any of the reasons I’ve ever left a job before — which is almost always that the job is slowly killing me on the inside. instead, I wanted to quit because I just wanted to quit everything.
I had stayed home Tuesday due to have fell ill over the weekend. I slept all. day. long. and Wednesday morning, I wondered why I wasn’t doing that everyday.
it’s been a while since I’ve just wanted to Quit. like, not necessarily or specifically Life itself. but just Everything. (recent months, it’s been wanting to very precisely Quit Life.) but as of the last few days?, weeks?, it’s been just wanting to casually say, “okay, that was fun. but I’m done now.”
like when you’re playing a game, and you’re just done playing. time to stop. nothing drastic like taking your ball home. nothing like forfeiting the play. just, time to stop playing. no remorse, no regret, just Quittin’ time.
part of me is very apathetic about my family coming up here in June. (another part is OMG, super stoked!) a large portion of me just doesn’t really care about anything.
will I be fit and prepared for the Tough Mudder? meh.
will I do something fun this weekend? meh.
will I enjoy reading my books the next time I pick them up? meh.
will I eat anything today? meh.
I just don’t really care about anything.
nothing seems important or matterful. things are neither easy nor difficult, good nor bad. I just don’t care.
I’m not sure if this is an improvement or just a side step from crippling depression. the jury is still out on this one.