The Silver Lining of Apathy

What I've come to realize is that apathy is strangely empowering, if I look at it the right way.

Apathy is what exists at the very bottom of the hill. It's the thing I bump into when I go rolling down, down, and down some more. Hitting it doesn't provide any bounce to send me back up - but it doesn't give way, either. There's nothing past it. I can sit there with my back against it and know, if nothing else, that I'm not going down any further.

Apathy is the big, fat cipher I find in the bucket, when I make a last, feeble attempt to pull something up from the well. Even something useless, like anger or fear. But the well is dry and the bucket is glaringly empty. There isn't even any surprise in that moment. The well, the bucket, and I all knew this was coming.

But that's the point at which apathy becomes potentially empowering. Because from that point on, any tiny drop I find in the bucket, should optimism or curiosity or just plain boredom send me back to the well - just to see, just for the hell of it - is a bonus. Oh, ok. Well then. Wasn't expecting this. Guess I'll go ahead and drink it. Yeah. Just a drop, but I wasn't expecting that. Sort of really nice, that was. Kind of incredibly grateful for it. Oops, I'm smiling. And now I'm laughing. 

I'm so very glad no one is witnessing this. I look like a maniac.

Maybe there'll be another drop tomorrow.