*Warning: naughty language ahead! 

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Apathy broke in last night and stole all of my fucks.

I don’t even care that he took them: I can’t.

I didn’t have many, to begin with…and used them sparingly aside from the occasional rant.

Some of those fucks were for you, and the others I felt were genuinely deserving.

I did keep a few extra to spend on trivial matters, but now those are gone too—which I suppose, should be unnerving.

Apathy took every single one of my fucks, and it will be a real struggle to get them back.

I’m not even complaining about it—on account of the fucks I now lack. I suppose I’m only writing to explain, which I must just be conditioned to do.

Anyway, there’s an opportunity to recover my fucks—but I may need a bit of assistance from you.

Apathy left a note with instructions. Can you help me follow-through?

“Hey you shit-head, it is I, one of life’s inevitable blows.
I’m sure you’ve already spent ample time asking why it was you that I chose.
Well, don’t be such a prima donna—this is just how depression goes.
And where or when I decide to stop by, no one ever really knows.

You probably want your fucks back—or the better version of you would,
so consider this an ultimatum and take my advice as you should.

You had a lot more fucks than you thought, but far from an infinite supply,
and your depression doesn’t make you special.

I’m really only returning yours to make room for the fucks of another guy.

You will be getting all of them—you don’t get to pick and choose.

It’s a relatively heavy sack of fucks, but be selective about the fucks you’re willing to lose.

Another suggestion if I may—rather I will and without hesitation,
when you find yourself giving a fuck for no reason, don’t waste another to self-flagellation.

So it’s probably time you phone a friend because you’re not doing this yourself.
They’ll get you started in the right direction, and I’ll put your fucks back on the shelf.” 

Love,
Apathy 

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