Between yesterday and today, my brain has come to a series of realizations that have brought me to a final point: i might want to give up trying to make my points and discuss them.
Let me explain better, if you want to read.
There are a large number of interesting topics that my heart would push me to discuss. People say i am passionate, others say i am obsessive, some appreciate me, other shrug at me, insult me or ridicule me. I am ok with both sides.
I am what i am, if i feel for a point, an issue or a cause, i am passionate about it. I used to dislike apathy and to think that its the real death of the soul. I used to think that any issue, especially important ones, deserve to be addressed with passion, whichever your take on it happens to be. I used to be adamnt on the fact that a healthy, fierce back and forth only produces good results.
I think i have changed my mind.
Many interesting, strongly important things have happened rcently.
I could discuss the recen release of an israeli soldier in exchange for thousands of palestinian prisoners and how it seems that this action has actually enhanced the tension, in my view. How, to save the life of one, murserers and extremists have been set free and how the more intense parts of the population are now chanting for more violence.
I could talk about my country and the harsh times its going through, while a politician is obtaining power through sheer dishonesty, people are trying to protest and being clubbed into repression. And how the world is scoffing at this country without knowing what we're goin through.
I could talk about the many many flaws of the health systems of the world. How european politicians are trying to ban stem cell research in the name of pro-life morals, blocking any chance possible to keep the research that would save lives on going.
But i realized i'm tired of trying to give my heart for that.
Its not because i felt hurt by any discussion. Its a moment of clarity.
Yesterday, my father received the news that, possibly, he will have to deal with recurring methastasis in his urinary tract. Might be something or might not. That doesnt really hurt me or affect me. the man has been diagnosed at least ten times in the last five years. He's sixty five, has gone through surgery three times and he could be ill or not, survive or not, both cases could have effects or nothing at all.
What hit me, is that after the news i went to my mother and found her on her bathroom floor, weeping and distraught. Her and him donbt go along, but if he dies, our finances will be hit by a wave of issues that will destroy us. Also the mere idea of going through the torture of dealing with him being hospitalized again was enough to crush her.
In the mean time, he was loudly bragging how he "doesnt give a fuck if he dies" and other loud, foul declarations of indifference and spite. Which are false but repeated daily.
How does that connect to my previous points. Well in one main way: i wont be crushed by something, no matter how important it is to me, because no one else really cares.
As much as i am passionate about some topics, they're not worth my heart. The best argument only ends with one of the parts acting hurt and using guiolt tricks to ease out of the discussion. And the whole thing isnt worth it.
The world is formed by assholes who do not care about anythiong they say, drop atatemnts that hurt others and then hide behind their right to be free and have opinions. It isnt a fair game.
So i'm out. i give up. I quit