The Guy Who Doesn’t Care

Vansh

27 Sep 2025 — 5 min read

There are people who live for food.
There are people who live for fashion.
There are people who live for looks.
There are people who live for opinions.

And then there’s me.

The guy who doesn’t care.
Not “pretending not to care.” Not “posting quotes on Instagram about how cool it is to not care.” I mean it in the rawest, most boring, most matter-of-fact way possible: I really, truly, deeply, honestly don’t care.

Food ? Just fuel.
Clothes ? Just fabric.
Looks ? Just lottery.
Opinions ? Just noise.

And when you strip it all down like that. When you really, really zoom out. Life looks hilariously simple.

Food: The Overrated National Obsession

Let’s start with the big one. Food. The holy grail of human obsession.

People plan their entire week around food.
They argue endlessly about it.
They take photos of it.
They even make careers out of describing it.

And me ? I couldn’t care less.

Food is a transaction. Input → Energy → Output. That’s it.

I don’t look at a plate of biryani and see art. I don’t bite into pizza and feel love. I don’t crave. I don’t drool. I don’t build weekend plans around it.

If you put a bowl of dal in front of me seven days in a row, I’ll eat it without complaint. Why ? Because it does the job. Carbs ? Check. Protein ? Check. Keeps me alive ? Check. Done.

People call me boring. I call them distracted.

I once went a whole day without eating, not because I was fasting, not because I was sick, but simply because I forgot food exists. My brain was busy working on something, and food didn’t even ping on the radar.

And you know what ? I didn’t die. Shocking, right ?

But here’s the funniest part: people spend more time talking about food than actually eating it. Endless debates: “Paneer is better than chicken.” “No, chicken is better than paneer.” “No, biryani is God.”

Meanwhile, I’m sitting there thinking: bro, it’s all just molecules that your stomach will mash into mush in fifteen minutes.

Clothes: The Circus of Fabric

Then comes fashion. Oh my God.

This industry is literally designed to make people insecure forever. There’s always a “new trend.” Always a “new drop.” Always a reason to say, “Oh, what you’re wearing is outdated.”

I don’t play that game.

I’ll wear the same T-shirt three days in a row if it’s clean. I’ll pick the most comfortable thing I can find and call it a day. Clothes, for me, are barriers - fabric between me and the cold, me and the sun, me and mosquitoes. Nothing else.

Someone once told me, “Vansh, you should dress better. First impressions matter.”
I told them, “If my T-shirt matters more to you than my brain, then you’re not the kind of person I want to impress anyway.”

End of discussion.

You know the funniest thing ? Fashion changes because someone decides it should. Twenty years ago, baggy jeans were cool. Then skinny jeans were cool. Then ripped jeans were cool. Then wide-leg jeans again. Bro, pick one. At this point it’s not fashion, it’s just trolling.

Meanwhile, I’m still in my simple black T-shirt, and guess what... it still works.

Looks: The Dumbest Lottery on Earth

Looks are a joke. The biggest joke humanity ever fell for.

You didn’t earn your face. You didn’t grind for your cheekbones. You didn’t hustle for your jawline. It’s just a genetic lottery. Two people met, exchanged DNA, and boom... here you are, with a nose you can’t even take credit for.

So why the hell should it define your worth ?

People spend hours in front of mirrors. Creams, powders, surgeries, filters. Whole industries thrive on keeping you insecure about the one thing you had zero control over.

Not me. I don’t wake up and thank God for a symmetrical face. I don’t look at the mirror longer than ten seconds. I don’t even care if someone calls me ugly.

Because brains matter. Ideas matter. Curiosity matters. Intelligence, kindness, ambition - that’s cool. Not jawlines. Not designer shoes.

I’d rather have an ugly genius in the room than a handsome idiot. Every. Single. Time.

Opinions: The Background Noise of Life

And then we come to people. The scariest, funniest, most unreliable part of life.

I don’t care what people think. Not at all.

This shocks people. Because we live in a world where everyone cares, all the time. What people will say. What people will judge. What people will whisper. What people will assume.

Me ? I don’t give a damn.

What people will say ? They’ll say something anyway.
What people will think ? They’ll think anyway.
What people will judge ? They’ll judge anyway.

So why should I waste time living life by their script ?

I’ve been blunt in rooms where silence was expected. I’ve told people their ideas sucked when everyone else politely clapped. I’ve called out nonsense in front of seniors, bosses, authority figures. Not because I enjoy conflict. But because truth > lies. Logic > emotions. Facts > fantasies.

Yes, it makes me look rude. But I’d rather be rude and right than polite and fake.

Some Stories

A friend once asked me if he should chase a girl who clearly wasn’t into him. Everyone else was like, “Bro, don’t give up, shoot your shot.”
I told him: “She doesn’t like you. Respect yourself and move on.”
He hated me for saying it. But months later, he admitted I was right.

Another time, someone pitched me their startup idea. Everyone clapped. I said: “Your product solves nothing. It’s lipstick on a pig. Don’t waste investor time.”
They looked at me like I’d slapped them. But later, they pivoted. Saved themselves years of pain.

That’s the thing about being blunt: people hate you first, thank you later.

Why Emotions Are Overrated

Here’s my core philosophy: emotions are overrated.

People glorify emotions as what “makes us human.” I disagree. Emotions are what make us irrational. Wars are started because of ego. Families are broken because of pride. Decisions are ruined because of fear.

Logic is clean. Logic doesn’t betray you. Logic doesn’t wake up moody. Logic doesn’t hold grudges. Logic doesn’t lie to itself at 2 a.m.

So yes, I choose logic. Every single time.

Weird Things About Me

I’ve worn the same hoodie in so many photos that people started asking if it’s my uniform. It kind of is.
I’ve worn sneakers until the sole literally opened up. Still wore them another week.
I don’t know half the brands people worship. Gucci, Prada, Balenciaga - all sound like Pokémon names to me.
Compliment my looks ? I’ll forget in ten minutes. Compliment my brain ? I’ll remember forever.
Once I trip and fall flat on my face in front of a hundred people. I just got up, dust off, and walk again. No shame. They forgot in ten minutes anyway.
I don’t like small talk. If you start with “Nice weather today,” I’ll reply with “Do you think humans will ever colonize Mars?”
Once someone said, “Bro, you’re weird. You don’t fit in.” My reply: “Exactly.”

The Twist

Now, don’t get me wrong. This doesn’t mean I’m negative or cynical. This isn’t some dark, sad “I hate the world” philosophy.

This is freedom.

When you stop caring about the unnecessary - food drama, fashion circus, opinion factories. You make space.

Space for what actually matters: ideas, dreams, creation, curiosity.

I don’t waste time choosing outfits. I use that time to build.
I don’t waste money chasing trends. I invest it in experiments.
I don’t waste energy on gossip. I channel it into visions.

I’m not heartless. I’m practical.
I’m not careless. I’m selective.
I’m not cold. I’m just free.