Round and round I go, like a carousel. “What idiots! What incredible, stupid fucks,” I think to myself. A particular person, or particular type of person, who annoys me, becomes entrenched in my head, and there they are, spitting out the same nonsensical gibberish that pissed me off in the first place.
What I must do is ignore it. I’ve got to stop fighting these little wars in my head. It’s all just chaff, just my brain chattering at me like a parrot on speed. Just hear the thought. Acknowledge the thought. Then, ignore the thought. Let the broken record skip until the needle breaks. It’s all the same to me.
“Death hangs over thee: whilst yet thou livest, whilst thou mayest, be good.”
What’s the point of living my short life, a nonexistent drop in the bucket in comparison to the eternity ahead of me and the 14 billion years behind me, if I’m going to be a hard man, a mean man, an angry little rodent jumping around in a cage? Apatheia is the only cure, and I can have it, now. Apatheia is the only balm for a wound that never closes. It makes me invincible.