Sometimes I don't have the energy to care about people. Even when something horrible happens, I'm so indifferent that all I can do is fake a reaction. "Oh really? That's horrible," I'll say. Inside, all I'm thinking is "I can't wait until this person leaves me alone." Likewise, if something terrible were to happen to me, I wouldn't want people to know. Part of that is because I know most people, like me, really wouldn't care.

The people I work with are an interesting bunch. I don't necessarily like many of them, but they're fun to drink with after work. One night, a rather dramatic and high-strung girl called me at midnight to tell me her ex-boyfriend had hit her repeatedly. I hardly know this girl. Yeah, guys shouldn't beat up girls. So call the cops. What the hell do you want me to do about it? Beat him up? Castrate him? It didn't help that she was in Moore, which is 30 minutes south of here.

I know I don't give off the "Talk to me, I care" vibe. Sometimes people are so self-absorbed that they don't care who they complain to, as long as they have someone to pity them. He shouldn't have hit her, but this wasn't the first time. Had common sense dictated the situation, she would have dumped him the first time. I have zero sympathy for girls who stick around with assholes. Maybe they think he'll change. Maybe they enjoy playing the victim. Either way, surely you can see why my already depleted sympathy supply had nothing to offer her.

We've all got problems. If I were to call this girl with any of mine, she probably wouldn't give a rat's ass either. I'm far too skeptical to trust most people with my struggles. To be so indiscreet with something as traumatic as being beaten up for the sake of attention repulses me. She didn't deserve it, but I won't be surprised if it happens again. I just hope she knows not to call me.