I just.... don't really care about it.
I was a semi-famous musician once, a couple of years back. I enjoyed a somewhat healthy career; the lifestyle, the media hoopla. the groupies, the chart-topping hits. For five years, I was on Cloud 9.
Life was good.
Until the day I stopped caring. And I quit my job as a musician, by choice.
I don't know what triggered it. Perhaps it was the realization that despite being surrounded by people, I still felt alone. Not alone in the lonely sense - I do not feel lonely, not in the emotional sense (ugh) - but alone with the realization that we are ALL inherently alone. I see human nature for what it most oftentimes is: hypocritical and self-serving. I know this does not necessarily apply to EVERY single individual of the human race, but it DOES apply to the majority - myself included.
I'm not cynical or jaded, unwelcoming or hostile towards the idea of love. I most definitely do not feel any outright anger at love, nor am I recovering from any relationship. Love, in its entirety, just doesn't seem to move me anymore.
I WANT to get rid of my indifference towards such things, my indifference towards people who FEEL, who put weight into their emotions. But I can't.
Do any of you have a quick-fix strategy to help me overcome my annoying nonchalance towards feeling types? My general 'couldn't care less' attitude towards the human race -- myself included?
I just wanted to know: Do INTPs normally go through such phases in their lives? Are we more prone to this than various other types? I know some cope with this better, but it is quite maddening to me.
That's the thing. I'm not actually depressed. I do not feel anxiety, I do not hate the world or the people in it. I am not suicidal, I don't want to kill myself, I don't feel threatened or invalid.
I just seem to be going through this phase of simply not caring about the things around me the way I used to. There's a sense of pointlessness about it all, even though I know full well that some things do have a point to them - seemingly so. Like the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
I look at the people around me who are older, perhaps wiser, accomplished in their careers, etc, and I don't see a point to it. In the end, we'll all die, buried or incinerated, and all our tangible accomplishments washed away with the memory of our existence. It's the same for so many people: You work, you start a family, you grow old, you die. In between, you try to fill life with memories and experiences to make it all seem worth the while.
We, as human beings, are self-important, and we're self-important because we were 'blessed' with intellect; an awareness of our existence.
But being aware of one's existence does not make that existence validated. We feed ourselves with purposes of living, reasons to believe that our individuality is unique and beautiful. But are we really?
That's what I struggle with daily. And I don't know why. I don't feel depressed about it, just despondent and... just being.