Why do I care?

Why do I care?

I don't. I seriously just--don't.
We have to get past this question from our editing professor every day, and I don't have any more answers for him or myself. Or my parents, although for them I'm good enough at pretending I care about things.

But I dread every day of the week now. They're either stressful or lonely as hell. Both, lately. A lot.
Yeah, I'm trying to combat that.

My metaphor needs a refill.

It feels like bashing against a brick wall that spontaneously heals whatever chip I've managed to make in it.
Everybody feels like this at some point or another, right? Right?