You.

"Act as if what you do makes a difference. It does." - William James




You. Over there.
Yes, you. Not the guy to your left.
Tell me, do you care? Why should you care?
Tell me why I should care.

Want to know what you will do?
You'll be peeved. Well, why shouldn't I care?
I should care. Things need caring for.
That's why I should care.

You'll sit there, at your keyboard.
You'll type up a long response, full of experience.
Your experience. You lived it. I should listen to you.
Because it's you. You and your experience.

I should care, because it worked for you.
I should do what you did, because it worked.
For you.
Not me, but for you.
So, why should I care again?

You. You tell me things.
Lots of things. Thingy-like things, where you did shit.
Lots of dumb shit, which should make me care.
I should sit in front of you, with my mouth agape.
In awe at the things you did.

Oh, ho ho. Mr. Glory man over here.
Or woman.
I'm not sexist.
You could be a girl.
Girls can do anything guys do.
Or, so you say.

So, now, all I have are a bunch of stories of why I should care.
What am I caring about?
You don't know. You probably just took a guess.
You took your best guess, because you cared that I didn't care, and you wanted me to care.
How thoughtful of you, my caring friend.

I still don't know why I should care.
I just do.