Idc (I do care)

We say it all the time — “idc.” I don’t care. It’s a defense mechanism, a shield we put up to protect ourselves. If we act like nothing matters, maybe it won’t hurt as much. Maybe disappointment won’t sting, maybe silence won’t feel so heavy, maybe walking away won’t leave a mark.

But the truth is, I do care. More than I let on. More than I probably should.

I care about the words left unsaid, the messages that go unanswered, the way someone’s tone shifts when something is wrong. I care about people, even when they don’t realize it. I care about things I pretend don’t matter. I care, even when I say I don’t.

I care when someone pulls away, and I don’t know why. I care when a friend says “I’m fine” but their eyes tell a different story. I care when people leave without explanation, leaving nothing but unanswered questions behind. I care, even when I wish I didn’t.

I say “idc” like it’s armor, like if I repeat it enough, it will become true. But no matter how many times I try to convince myself, it never does. Because caring is woven into who I am.

The truth is, I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t care.

I wouldn’t be the person who notices the small things, who listens a little longer, who remembers the details others forget. I wouldn’t be the person who loves deeply, who gives freely, who hopes even when there’s no reason to. Yes, it makes life harder sometimes. Yes, it means I get hurt. But I’d rather feel everything than feel nothing at all.

So maybe it’s time to stop saying “idc” when I really mean “I do.” Because caring means I’m human. It means I have a heart that still hopes, still loves, still believes in people even when it’s been let down.

And if that makes me someone who feels too deeply, then I’ll embrace it — because I’d rather feel everything than miss out on what truly makes life worth living.