If I didn’t care any more, I would improvise my life. No planning, no cogitation, no forethought, just do whatever seems like a good idea at the time and whatever happens, happens. No more trying to figure out where the road goes before I set foot on it. No more always trying to make the “smart” decision and raking myself over the coals when I make a suboptimal decision. No more laboring in futility to control my life and what happens to me via the power of my mighty mind alone. No more feeling responsible for everything. No more constant second-guessing myself.

If I didn’t care any more, I act on almost every impulse. I would follow my heart and see where it leads me. Goodness knows, my brain has been in charge for far too long considering its shameful track record. Time to give the heart a try. Other people seem to get by with a far more heartfelt and far less cerebral existence. They seem to flourish, in fact, and they don’t seem to need this layer of total vacuum between themselves and reality in order to function. I am willing to accept the idea that my entire approach to life is fundamentally broken. It would explain a lot.

If I didn’t care any more, I would laugh as loud as I want whenever I felt like it. I would cry openly during movies, offer sincere and sensitive help to people who seem down or sad, and hug people all the time. I would completely abandon modulating the volume of my personality, as well as any shame I feel about my largeness on any level. I didn’t ask to be large. I just am. And sometimes I think I would be better off if I was around people who could handle that.

If I didn’t care any more, I would be brutally blunt most of the time. Whatever I observed (or deduced or whatever) I would report, and I would welcome the world to do the same to me. If I did restrain myself, it would be on a case by case basis, not because of some deeply cowardly inner inhibition against drawing attention to myself or needing to treat the world like it’s made of fine porcelain and all the people are made of wet tissue paper, just like me. Sometimes I would be a source of truth, not comfort, and I would accept that as part of my role in the world.

If I didn’t care any more, I would assert myself in the world on an epic scale. I would learn the art of getting what I want and getting things my way, and heaven help whoever or whatever got in my way. Fuck justification. I would get what I wanted because I wanted it. No other justification is needed. And I would devote all of my considerable mental resources to this pursuit. Everyone else does, why not me? It’s not my fault I’m a giant.

If I didn’t care any more, I would cease all efforts to be understood by average people, and I would no longer give a damn if my intelligence spooks people or makes them think I am weird. I am weird, dammit, and there is little point in hiding it. I would be as smart as I wanted to be at all times, without restraint. I would radiate like a star on all frequencies and the people who got close to me would be the people who could stand the heat. I would stop feeling like a failure to communicate is always my fault.

If I didn’t care any more, I would choose to be tough instead of cautious. I would drag myself into and through difficult situations and constantly challenge myself to get the fuck over it. I would develop a thick hide and powerful mental muscles, and I would step out of my own shadow into the sun without shame, fear, or hesitation. I would take life head-on every single time because I would know I can take it. I would dare life to throw obstacles at me, then chew them up and shit them out. My attitude would be, “Come at me, bro!”.

If I didn’t care any more, I would charm the world. I would leave the line between “influence” and “manipulate” up to the scholars and simply engage the world through my mind, heart, personality, and powers of persuasion to their full effect. I would have a massive presence, and because I don’t worry about attracting attention any more, I would love every ever-lovin’ minute of it. I would be the sort of person who can fill a room just by smiling, and who takes it for granted that people are going to like him. Because why wouldn’t they?

If I didn’t care any more, I would be as generous, magnanimous, benevolent, and protective as I wanted to be, without sweating the little details of life. I would care without fear, love hard and deep, be positive and optimistic in a contagious way, stand up for people who can’t do it for themselves, and do whatever I think is right no matter what. I would interpose myself betwixt the shoals of humanity and the cold and senseless hand of fate, and work like hell to make the world a saner, safer, softer, and more secure place than ever before.

And finally, if I didn’t care any more, I would enjoy life as if my life depended on it, because on a psychological and/or spiritual level, it does. I would eat my fill of life like it’s a mad buffet and stuff myself with all things good in life rather than be one of those poor fools starving in Eden. I would grab life by the ass and pull it close to me, then slow-grind on it all night long. I would get drunk on the mild of human kindness, and give myself away for free any chance I got.

Yup, life would be very different if I didn’t care any more.

But I do.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.