Two years ago, I read “The subtle art of not giving a fuck”. The idea was to stop tormenting on things that didn’t matter, or at least had no utter importance. Like worrying over what to tell your aunt who is hospitalized for eating candy, you should only be concerned about being there for her!

In the book’s original motion, everything is controlled by our mindset. The further desires that man has about being rich or happy only seek to destroy him. It brought the idea that “the more you pursue feeling better all the time, the less satisfied you become, as pursuing something only reinforces the fact that you lack it in the first place”.

So I took it to heart that I was going to stop giving a fork about unnecessary things like how to become famous or how to flirt with the girl that supposedly dated Justin Bieber, because as the book indulged: the acceptance of my negative experiences was itself a positive experience. I was going to start working on what really mattered. I was also going to stop eating candy.

Paradoxically, I gave a fuck about a book that wanted me not to give a fuck about anything.

In some ways, the opinions of people towards me faded. The critics on how I wore clothes or how tall and skinny I was and how weird I was, didn’t matter. I instead found myself worrying about the environment. About sexism, child abuse, pizza. The simplest of tasks. I easily didn’t give a fuck about things that seeked to destroy me.

I also saw my fears disappear. The fear of not being good at what I do haunted me for a long time to the point I couldn’t believe in myself anymore until a person would tell me “hey Patrick, last week’s piece was the real winner” it took a compliment to restore some confidence in myself. But any flatter is archaic, it fades eventually. Soon enough the fear, and criticizing faded too. The idea I had, was that I would write and write again and if one day I really need to stop, then I’d stop. But until then, I was going to pack my mind and my blog with vulnerability, confidence, my heart and most of all, myself.

Because I didn’t give a fuck if people would love my writings or would call me another blogger on the internet. I didn’t care if I would find my pieces terrible, I would just have to write more until I get it right.

I know you relate on this one. You’ve definitely read the book. And one way or another, you’ve stopped worrying and being desperate on something. In a sense, caring less about everything in your life, made them bloom. In my life, I have given a fuck about many things, I have also not given a fuck about many things. And like the road not taken, it was the fucks not given that made all the difference.

But let me be honest, a lot of people I know give too much fucks. Fucks about how people see them on social media, fucks on the image they portray, fucks when their coworkers don’t bother asking them about their awesome weekends, fucks about what kind of phone they should own, and many more. Here your mind antagonizes on worrying about everything and trust me, this is a bad routine.

If you luxuriously spend your days hating people because they couldn’t celebrate your birthday, and pursue on finding quotes to help you express your anger, your fucks are in the wrong direction. Worry instead about why they didn’t remember or why they didn’t think it was necessary. Worry on yourself because you are the origin of everything that happens to you whether you know it or not. We all give a fuck about something, it’s in our nature, but where we direct our fucks is the most crucial part.

One last thing: Most people feel that they are perpetually entitled to be comfortable and happy at all times that everything is supposed to be just exactly the fucking way they want it to be. This is a sickness and everything will appear even worse than it already was.

Albert Camus once said: “You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life.” Simply put, don’t try. Give a fuck about the important things, things that your heart beats hard on.

You want to know how to give less fucks in this fabric of life? Well, there is one thing you owe yourself to do, eat less candy. And maybe read the book!



  1. First post of yours I’ve read. Loved it. I haven’t read the book, but based on your review, I need to. I’m better than I used to be but have a long way to go.


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