I'm coming to think that caring about things (people, places, things in general) is a weakness. Maybe something like chocolate and the longing for something soothing, smooth and lush. I think that's too poetical. But, its the idea. Somehow we/ I think caring for things will bring me something good back. A feeling of having done well, or right, or good. Making the world a better place - but for who?

Caring for anything seems to be a trap. The things you care for will betray you in some way. Not always deliberately in a straight and easy to see line. But, along the way, your care will trap you and you will be abandoned. The things you care about will be thought useless baggage by others and eventually you will begin to feel let down by all of them. Not their fault, they are just things: books, art, collections, all of those things. The people will stop finding value in your caring and in yourself. You're old and should be invisible. Your care was useful at one time but now you're just in the way, lagging along like a weight, or a duty. The places you care about will go on without you. They will change, grow, die, without anything from you. Caring is costly, you lose power, energy and space.

Does any of this make sense? I don't think it matters because I'm an old woman now and my great super power is invisibility. I care you not.