Blame is easy.

It all has to be someone else’s fault. And they must change. Not me. Not us. They did this. They’re doing it, and they’re doing it to us. Fear. Hate. Terror. Doom. It’s all coming and it’s all coming thanks to the vague and horrible ‘they’. The television. The newspaper. And that goddamn internet. It gives them the power to keep festering.

Except what I find agreement with, obviously. That stuff is fine.

Easiest thing in the world. And an epidemic. All over the world for all sorts of reasons, trust among humans dwindles with each day. And considering that we did not start off so understanding, I cannot imagine that being a good thing.

But what the hell do I know? The guy who can’t even get himself a date, preaching about how to get the whole of humanity together. Yet again.

Because change is hard. Forget about changing the ways of the world, most folks cannot even convince themselves to better their own lives. Day after day, trapped in cyclical redundancies, unable to even make an effort to bring any further profound meaning to existence. Getting fat. Getting sad. Getting nowhere new. Nowhere better.

And if history is a true teacher, efforts of change are not met with open arms. More likely, such endeavors are met with torches and pitchforks. With sword and knife. With cannon fire. Bullets. Violence of all sorts. Not understanding and compassion. And where not met with resistance, it is met with something far worse.

Indifference.

Not the inability to comprehend others, but the choice to not listen. Willful ignorance of all brands. Not just the obvious type, of those who would be considered uneducated or uninformed, but those with degrees and are considered by themselves and others as intelligent. As knowing. As wise.

And just by saying all of this, your humble narrator is no better than those he is preaching against. Here are the problems all around, and it is not I who caused them. Claiming injustice. Playing the victim.

So.

How does it get better?

The truth is, that I do not know.

Though but a brief time on this planet, I have managed at the very least a small mountain of mistakes. And not just the kind that would affect my own life. Oh no, there is a trail of tears behind my footsteps brought about by my doing. By my lack of understanding. My lack of compassion. My lack of openness. For even just in a small area of my life, I have a one hundred percent failure rate. I have never succeeded in romance, not in the long run. Hence, why I find myself alone. And have been alone for some time now. And the very prospect of engaging in such behaviors again fills me with anxiety and apprehension.

But.

I feel the urge to continue efforts. And so, I do, though without making much more than a few measly ripples. And it may just be the gusto of still being a young man, but I see no other option. Because desire is not quelled by stagnation.

But my romantic life will not solve the woes of the world, or even the other troubles in my own life. So why use it as an example? Maybe because it’s been on my mind, as of late. Maybe it’s because even through all my failures, moments of idealism have shown through and true. I can recall them all. As each one was unique, if only for a whisper of time.

Because it is not the presentation of problems that brings about correction of them. We all know our issues, even if we choose to ignore them. Or cannot understand them. Perhaps that cannot be so easily defined, but they are there. A feeling in your gut. Good or bad, a sensation tells you when something is amiss. When something is not what was predicted. Or hoped for. It is that sort of feeling that must be molded into a drive. A force moving what is or was, to what shall be.

But the individual is small and mob is disorganized. And often when humans get too organized, it ends up being a problem. War, oppression and the sort- all generally executed with efficiency. All well managed.

But when it comes to the positives, we fall short. Food and water for the world is still a problem in an age almost half a century after we landed on the Moon. Old religions casting a web around billions, telling them to kill, to hate, to shun, to provoke. And even a message of love is drowned out contextually. Gods that are said to love all, have their names yelled out as lives are made into deaths.

And there I go again, only writing of the problems.

But how, you ask? How can we make things better? So much wrong and we seem to lack the resources for anything outside of selfishness. I feel it myself. The urge to protect my own, whatever that might mean. Grown only stronger with the constant access of information.

Well.

It may not work, but I believe we have to start small. You break bad habits little by little. Because a whole life change doesn’t just happen. It is all incremental.

Worried about the effects of climate change? Upset that your leaders do not share your woe? Well, what actions are you taking? Do you leave the water running when you brush your teeth? Do you leave a light on after you leave the house? Do you expect someone else to wave the wand and all of it will go away, without lifting a finger?

Because it won’t. And you should never expect anyone to take steps in a direction that you yourself are not willing to go.

Do you think there would be refugees in the world if homelands weren’t being destroyed? Do you stop hate by hating those responsible? Do you go on a date without asking someone on one? And do you give up upon first denial?

There comes a time, and the time may very well be now, that we must stop asking who started these problems. Because the responsibility for betterment will not be on those who made things worse. It is upon the shoulders of those who are now. So those who come next can work on the next thing.

Our problems are not solved by pointing out who started them. They are solved by being someone who is working to fix them.