Well, the point in my life in which I did care (and consequently tried to please everyone and ignore myself) led to me being severely depressed, but I suppose another factor is that I’ve had a few mad experiences that really put my mortality in perspective. Like, oh-so-that’s-what-they-meant-by-it-flashing-before-your-eyes perspective. Oh and I love reality and theories about it and basically all the evidence that we even are anything at all is absolutely impossible.
So… yes, when you keep in mind the fact that every next second is potentially your last and that it’s bloody marvelous that you even exist in the first place, you sort of start to give less of a damn about what the world thinks of something dumb and cute you drew at 3 in the morning because you wanted to.