My Rhetorical Discontent

Everyday I ask myself, "How do we all just keep going about our business in a world this fucked up?" It is, of course, a rhetorical question. I know how. We've got lives to live. For some the simple act of survival. For others the dedicated carving out of their footprint on the history of humanity, whether large or small.

I'm on my own personal mission, just like everyone else. I've got things I want to accomplish in this life, for no other reason than self-gratification, a sense of self-worth, as I march towards death. Yet, I feel a pull towards greater activism, to do all that I can to try and better this world while I'm alive. This daily call to arms, especially heightened during the era of 45 - whose name shall not be spoke here - this daily call is balanced by an equally strong sense of futility.

Am I doing all I can?

Does it matter?

I suppose I'll just stay busy while I'm trying figure all this shit out.