Disclaimer: This post is going to be more about my personal feelings than football. If this sort of stuff isn't your cup of tea, you're free to stop reading now. Otherwise, welcome aboard.

When the Panthers lost in the Divisional Round of the playoffs last year I wasn't sad. It really didn't bother me that much because I didn't expect the team to finish 12-4 and win the division anyway, so making the playoffs was good enough for me considering that the last time the Panthers were truly relevant was 2008.

I lived through 2010, barely escaping the abyss of depression as I watched Jimmy Clausen look helplessly lost on the field while playing for a coach who already had one foot out the door and was waiting on the final whistle to blow so he could swiftly take that last step into freedom. I was excited when the Panthers hired Ron Rivera because my impression of him was that he was a no nonsense, cut the bullshit type of guy who would instill discipline and mental toughness into the players. (More on this later.)

I wasn't happy the team chose to draft Cam Newton, because quite frankly I didn't like the guy. (Admittedly, it didn't help that he had previously destroyed South Carolina in the SEC Championship Game.) While I did think that Nolan Nawrocki's now infamous "scouting report" of Newton was heinously unfair, I did feel that there was probably a small sliver of truth behind it. But, I trusted the organization because that's what fans do. We put trust in people who know more than us about drafting prospects and we hope it will work out for the best.

I was hopeful the Panthers would turn things around now that they had a new coach and a new quarterback, and because I expected growing pains in 2011, I wasn't disappointed in the 6-10 record because let's face it: 6-10 is much, much easier to endure than 2-14. I was content.

But then 2012 happened. So many close losses. So much heartbreak. So many questionable decisions by a man that we thought was supposed to bring a "twist the knife" mentality to the team. Hell, he even told us that he would do that. We even nicknamed him BAMF. (To be fair, this was mostly due to his questionable fashion sense, but still... we nicknamed the man BAMF.)

For the entirety of 2012 and the first four weeks of 2013, I assumed that BAMF meant "Bad At Managing Football", because the team was something like 2-78 in games decided by 7 points or less (that may or may not be an exaggeration, but you get the point). Where was the BAMF mentality? Where was the "twist the knife" Ron that we were promised? I was angry and confused and sad and didn't know if I could take it anymore.

And then something happened. Rivera figured out that if you go for it on 4th and short instead of punting to the other team it works out in your favor sometimes. The team started winning. Rivera earned the Riverboat Ron nickname. People started paying attention to the Panthers again. The fanbase was energized and ready to see the payoff from all the years of suffering. The team kept winning. They won eight games in a row, lost one, and then won three more to close the season at 12-4 with the 2nd overall seed in the NFC Playoffs. The team -- and the city -- were on top of the world.

And then it all came crashing down.

They lost to the 49ers in the playoffs because they weren't ready to make the leap to contending for the Super Bowl just yet. This is understandable. A lot of young teams struggle to find their way in the playoffs before they finally figure out how to win. It comes with the territory.

With the playoff loss now behind us, the fan base was ready for 2014 because this was going to be our year. We had the tools in our hands, and all we needed to do was use them to their fullest power to accomplish our goals. Rivera had finally figured out how to win close games. Cam Newton had weapons on offense. The defense was otherworldly. We had Luke Kuechly and Thomas Davis -- two of the best linebackers in the league. We had Greg Hardy and Charles Johnson -- two of the most underrated pass rushers in the league. We were unstoppable.

And then the offseason happened.

Dave Gettleman systematically destroyed everything about the 2013 squad. He let our quality free agents sign elsewhere. He failed to replace the retiring Jordan Gross. He let franchise icon Steve Smith go for reasons that we still don't fully understand. He basically placed the team in a boat in the middle of the ocean and gave them a broken oar and a box of toothpicks to row with. His decisions told us that 2014 was a year he would use to build for 2015 and beyond, and most of us didn't like it. "We went 12-4 last year, dammit. WTF are you doing, Dave?!" was a common reaction.

One could argue that our 12-4 record last year was a fluke and that the team just got lucky and took advantage of a few perfectly timed breaks. One could also argue that Rivera was only Riverboat Ron because his job was on the line and he was determined to not get fired, so he did whatever it took to ensure that didn't happen. One could argue that Gettleman's offseason moves make sense if you look at the big picture because the team still has cap space issues that will haunt them for the next few years thanks to Marty Hurney giving players huge contracts like candy on Halloween. One could make all of those arguments and build a solid case that Gettleman did the right thing. But the team still won 12 games last year, and it's a hard pill for fans to swallow when you gut a 12 win team for no apparent reason.

It's possible that we tried too hard to rationalize the situation to prevent ourselves from being too angry.

"Well, Ginn was just an okay WR anyway."

"I'm glad Munnerlyn is gone."

"Steve Smith has lost a step."

"Rivera has turned things around and is now a good coach who takes risks at the right time."

"Mike Shula's clock management offense isn't that bad because our defense is good enough to win games for us."

And so on.

It's a natural reaction for fans to rationalize things we see as potential mistakes because we want to believe that the people in charge of our favorite team know what they're doing, and we're scared shitless at the possibility they don't. It's that fear that drives us to rationalizations like the ones above. It's that fear that keeps us in check.

When that fear is gone--when we realize they don't actually know what they're doing--that's when it gets real.

The Panthers started the 2014 season with a bang. They easily defeated the Bucs and then took down the Lions to open the season at 2-0, something they hadn't done yet during Rivera's tenure. After embarrassing losses to the Steelers and Ravens, the team sat at 2-2 and were in desperate need of a win. Thankfully, they were able to get one the following week against the Bears.

And then our biggest fears were realized.

We should have defeated the Bengals. There's no excuse for settling for a tie. It's a chickenshit move and we all knew it. Well, everyone except Rivera. He was apparently okay with it. That tie was the beginning of the end for the 2014 Carolina Panthers.

You know what happened next, but in case you need to be reminded:

Blown out by Green Bay.

Beaten by Seattle when they should have won... again.

Blown out by New Orleans.

Blown out by Philadelphia.

Beaten by Atlanta... at home.

Blown out by Minnesota.

My reaction to each loss grew more and more apathetic as they kept piling up. I was angry they were blown out by Green Bay. I was upset they let another game against Seattle slip out of their grasp. I was disheartened they were blown out by New Orleans. I was unmoved by their loss to Philadelphia. I expected their loss to Atlanta. I laughed at their loss to Minnesota, because frankly... what else can we do at this point?

I simply do not care about the 2014 Carolina Panthers anymore. I don't have any feelings left in me to give them. My attitude for this season has devolved from excited expectation to passionate anger to mild disappointment to apathy. I don't even watch most of the games anymore, because I've found that it's better to do other things with my time. I skipped the first half of the Vikings game because I chose to go out with my family, and I only watched the second half because there wasn't anything else on tv that me or my wife wanted to watch. It was background noise that I occasionally paid attention to for reasons I still don't understand.

I probably won't watch the Saints game this Sunday, or the Bucs game after that. I just don't want to watch this team anymore. To use a wrestling reference, I've tapped out. They've beaten me down so badly that I just don't want to take it anymore. My morale is gone. Wasted away by a 1-8-1 stretch of some of the most comically awful football I've ever seen. That's what this team is at this point: a comedy act. What's worse, they're a comedy act that really isn't all that funny.

There's nothing this team can do that will get me to care about them until the draft rolls around, and even then I'm going to question if I want to be hopeful or continue to be unmoved by their circular chain of ineptitude and mediocrity.

I don't want anyone to be fired during the season. I don't want Jerry Richardson to sell the team. I don't want Cam Newton to be benched. I don't want the Panthers to make a comeback and win the NFC South. I just want to ignore the 2014 Carolina Panthers.

And that, my friends, is worse than any amount of anger I can possibly have.