Really, who cares?
Maybe not everyone — but we do want someone, anyone to care. It just seems so easy to puff up our chest and say it with seeming confidence.
I worked so hard, but my plan didn’t work. Who cares.
Someone important forgot to greet me on my birthday. Who cares.
I made a glaring, embarrassing mistake. Who cares.
You did something painfully wrong to me. Who cares.
“Who cares?” Really. You do care on who cares. The mere fact that we bother noticing shows concern or a hint of care. Even when we somehow hope that nobody really did notice or care. We care. But who cares if we care, truly or not? And why should we care at all?
What does it even mean and take to care? Is saying “take care” nothing more than a pleasant words of farewell, or do we truly wish for that person to take our care and concern with them? Do you really care? Are you really concerned at all? No, concern is different from worry. Concern means more than just fretting around and wishing, hoping for someone’s welfare. Concern drives you to discern and meet someone’s need beyond what is obvious— not to pamper their wants and whims. Caring for someone requires sacrifice, not just for the one suffering, but for the one who cares as well. It requires the courage to trespass the illusionary wall of privacy that one who suffers tries to hold up, as well as the resilience to hold back and allow the suffering person to be true to themselves through tears and introspection.
Who are you to care? Should consanguinity be the qualification? Relationship or acquaintanceship? What determines whether we are ethical trespassers to one’s suffering or when we become mere curious gawkers and gossipers? Yet, who are we not to care? Who are we to be selective, prejudicial of whom should receive our care?
What do you care about? It’s so easy to claim concern and care, yet only realize that we serve only our own concerns and interests. Do we care out of our reputation, out of people’s expectations of us? Do we care because it seems to be the right thing to do? Do we care out of a sense of debt, of gratitude? Do we care because of its rewards and benefits— that warm glow inside, an emotional self-pat on the back? What do we care about when we show concern for someone else? Do we still care when someone we care about doesn’t reciprocate the concern we give?
Who cares? Who cares.
But really, can you be someone who cares?