Can I really care?

I've come to the point in my life where I have very few cares. And its on purpose. I've spent most of my life worrying about everything from what people think of me, to what music I listen to, to when I would hit a growth spurt ( still waiting on that one). Its all a waste of fucking time. Worrying is just unneeded stress delivered in unnecessary daily doses. And it weighs down your insides and drags your chin to your chest and theres only so much of that you can do before you come to a split in the road that says

"keep going and you'll lose yourself, turn around and you might just remember who you were in the first place."

I'm getting better acquainted with who I was before all the chaos. It feels right. I can't help but think I'm still running from the harsh realities of what I've endured but at the same time, I feel like I'm just starting over. Like I've given myself a little bit of a blank slate. And its not one where I forget everything and change my style and my life completely, its one where I cut down all the distractions and exterior bullshit and just focus on the basics: myself . If I have to start at selfish, so be it. Its about time I start to figure out what I really like and what food I really want to eat when I go out and what I want to do instead of just doing everything anybody else wants to do or wants me to do. I'm done living for everyone else.

That being said, loneliness is still a son of bitch to try to cope with. I've gotten better though. Even though I miss having x, y, and z, I dont see females as a necessity or a status quo anymore, but more so just another worry to add to my list. To be bold face honest, girls fucking scare me. And not in that 'I dont want to approach a chick' reluctant type way, but more in that 'God damn you are way to intense and high maintenance ' type way. I mean, in all reality, relationships of any form take energy. And thought. And time. And now every time I see a girl I'm attracted to, I have this circus of thoughts shoot through my head-

- Can I really handle getting to know her?
- What if shes borderline retarded?
- What if shes more damaged than I am?
- Do I even want to know how damaged she is?
- Can I really care?

And the answer to most of those is fuck no.

Right now my life is in a very good space. I can't sit here and complain. I have a job. I've gained some pride and respect back for myself. For my purpose. I got my Lolla tickets (SWAAAAG!). I can't sit here and ask for anything more.

However, I dont know if I'd consider this satisfaction. How does that term work necessarily? Are we ever really satisfied? Do we know when were satisfied?