Some days I just want to climb the highest mountain and proclaim to the world that I. DON’T. CARE.
Actually, that’s not true. Most days I want to do that.
Most days (more and more lately) I want to go to a very remote place and just be. For a long time. Perhaps forever. I want to hibernate there and busy myself with walks and meditation and appreciation of nature and animals and good coffee and good books and nothing else. I want to talk to nothing but trees and squirrels and grass. I want to listen to nothing but water in a stream or wind through trees.
And if I wanted that out of a desire to live simply and be quite, I think that would be okay. But, I don’t. I want it out of a desire to not be around people and to alleviate nonsense (I changed the word I had originally used for this one at the last minute).
At least a dozen times per day, I dream of running away, hibernating, changing EVERYTHING. Some days I get so tired with everything that I really do feel like I. DON’T. CARE.
Except then I realize that I do care. Very much. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t find myself so affected.
And some days I hate that.