How Much Do I Really Care?

Everybody wants to know how much I care about anything. Sometimes, I am very emphatic. I choose my words carefully and place them nicely in a sentence, and let them be heard in a very sarcastic harmony. But, other times, I just smile or laugh (depending on the personal level the question is in), lift my eyebrow, and rapidly pick up a line on another subject that has just been made.

So, how much do I really care? I think A LOT. One of my weaknesses and strengths is my ability to display my emotions through facial expressions. Likewise, I can also just fool other people by the lack of emotion I’m able to portray in a single look. But, those who have spent time around me have deciphered my ways. Too bad! Why? They know now how to trigger a sense of discomfort and pretend cordiality from me.

People love to see the weak side of me. It is like they love doing on purpose. They enjoy looking at me getting all emotional, irresolute or frail. For instance, I have a this friend. He is supposedly one of my best friends, but he enjoys bringing up any story of my former boyfriend, just to turn his eyes at me and go like this, “Sorry! But I needed to say it.” I just consent by smiling back, as if I don’t really care. But, guess what, I really fucking do.

There is another person, he is distant relative. But, since we are gay, we have been getting closer over the years. He is not and won’t be a really close friends. However, he is family, so?  Nothing that I can do about it. Well, he met a former boyfriend of mine. Let’s actually call him the way I did some time after I broke up with him. He was the love of my life. He was who I wished to be with for years. So, my cousin met him through twitter and they have been tweeting ever since. Nothing wrong there, until an actual close friend has the greatest idea to share some very insightful information about my late feeling for this former boyfriend with my not-so-close cousin. Chaos came. I didn’t know what to say. I just remained seated, listening to all the claptrap they both talked for twenty minutes. I resumed myself very collected and eagerly amused by the enjoyment they were having, talking so freely and unjustifiably about my past.

As any other life story with commitment of crashing someone peacefulness goes, that was not the end of mine. My so-called good cousin took a picture with the guy, once that they ran into with each other at a club. He sent me the pic. I even wanted to pretend in front of a mirror that I didn’t care. But, I could not.

Why do people want to know if I really care? Past is called past, because it is the only way to get over it. It is not something to stumble with it by quoting it all the time. Similarly, it is not something you use to display in a picture and send it to the previous owner. Come on!

If you know that I really care, why do you keep doing it?

I know that I sound a little mad, but I guess I have the reason to feel like it. I try to move on every time. Holding on to the past brings nothing, but despair and desolation to the soul. 

If people want to know, how much a person still care, well there is no need to ask or do those things. It is always obvious that we do care. Just take a short retrospective of your own. Then, you will find a great deal of insightful information of how much I care when you ask or say what I don’t want to talk aloud. 

We never stop caring. We always lock in our past. Caring is just the weakness of the strong and the strength of the weak. In fact, I just realized why anyone who knows me want to discover how much I care, since they want to see me frail, just as a fish out of water.

I just hope I will be able to catch every bullet they shoot and survive.


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