Apathy

It’s freezing in here. My fingers feel like bloody ice cubes, and I can’t feel the keyboard as I tap down on the black keys. I’m sitting in a corner, by myself, and my classics work hovers off to one side, reminding me constantly of undone work that needs to be finished – ‘sloppy’, my teacher said. ‘Getting worse’.

Thing is though, I don’t care. I don’t care that my fingers are cold, that I’m cold (I could easily change that by moving to a different IT room). I don’t care that I’ve got work to do, that the teachers are starting to get annoyed (it wouldn’t take me more than an hour to do all my overdue work). I don’t actually care if I flunk out of school, if I get a job doing nothing all day and staring at a wall.

I just don’t care.

This kind of apathy can’t be healthy. My parents are constantly getting at me to do something, ‘buckle down’, they say. ‘Your exams are coming soon. These will shape your future.’ Doesn’t bother me though. Doing anything about that would require effort, would require making my mind fight its way out of the stiff nothing that it likes to indulge in.

I think, occasionally, that I want to do something. Talk about writing a book, talking about doing some revision, talk about making an effort with my friends. It’s only ever talking though, and I never carry it out.

And when I’m thinking of that, I sometimes think I should hate myself.

But I can never be bothered.