Apathy

Is this what they call apathy?
Am I an apathetic man?
I’d look the word up in the dictionary,
If I even gave a damn.
I know I’m not an optimist,
I don’t think that I’m a pessimist,
I’m not jealous, not a dreamer nor obsessed;
I don’t yearn for more possessions,
I don’t crave cavorted sessions,
I don’t do anything outrageous to excess;
I just sit and think of nothing more or less.
I don’t know if I’m unhappy or depressed.
I just couldn’t really give a shit,
For lucky charms and candle sticks,
I don’t crane my neck to see my neighbors grass;
I just sit and think of nothings,
And I take whatever life brings,
I have no way to measure liquids in my glass;
For I’m a convoluted, melancholic man.
And I’m making the best of it that I can.
I don’t lie awake at night,
Thinking of whom I’m going to fight,
Because I just can’t think of anyone to blame;
I don’t frown but I don’t smile,
And I’ve felt this for a while,
So I think I’ll just keep everything the same.