I've spent nine months working on this Mexico research project. It's been my life; I've fallen asleep with multiple open books scattered around me, I've cried with undocumented migrants deep in Jalisco, I've drunk tequila with nonagenarians who still remember the Cristero War, I've spend countless hours drafting this article and dozens of weekends with my equipo arguing about public health theory we're incorporating. I'm staying a 5th year because of this project. And now, I sit here in front of my computer screen, deadlines looming, responsibility overwhelming...and I don't care. I just don't care.
I look at the words before me. Each word significant, every sentence has been debated, polished, scrutinized and agreed upon...but to me they seem foreign. Detached. I read the words, but my eyes pass apathetically over the words. I don't care.
Not in a rebellious, irresponsible way. It's not negligence, it's numbness. I desperately want to care. I want to return to a state of excitement, curiosity, passion, eagerness and sentience. But I'm numb. Interest is exhausting. Conversations are draining, leaving me weary and introverted. Passion sounds terrifying.
I don't have time for this. I need to care. I desperately, desperately need to care. But the more I try to force myself to participate, drag myself to meetings and class, make myself focus, the more I just want to curl into a ball of silence and warmth. I just want to sit beneath a tall, apathetic tree and silently watch the world whirl by. My eyes are dry; I have no tears left to cry until I'm drowning in them.
I look at the words before me. Each word significant, every sentence has been debated, polished, scrutinized and agreed upon...but to me they seem foreign. Detached. I read the words, but my eyes pass apathetically over the words. I don't care.
Not in a rebellious, irresponsible way. It's not negligence, it's numbness. I desperately want to care. I want to return to a state of excitement, curiosity, passion, eagerness and sentience. But I'm numb. Interest is exhausting. Conversations are draining, leaving me weary and introverted. Passion sounds terrifying.
I don't have time for this. I need to care. I desperately, desperately need to care. But the more I try to force myself to participate, drag myself to meetings and class, make myself focus, the more I just want to curl into a ball of silence and warmth. I just want to sit beneath a tall, apathetic tree and silently watch the world whirl by. My eyes are dry; I have no tears left to cry until I'm drowning in them.
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