Some days are better than others

"Well
now
aren't we scaring ourselves
unnecessarily?
aren't we trying too hard?

it's in our hands; in our hands" -- Bjork

I don't know whether to laugh or cry. A group of kids on the train bellow obscenities to each other at full lung, filling the carriage with a cacophony of mythical conquests over girls of varying proportions. I sit amongst the fine upstanding citizens and together, we all ignore and look away. Not one of us willing to confront the emptiness, we watch as they self-destruct. And it's later now, yet I know, statistically speaking, that even as I type these helpless letters, there will be hundreds of thousands of examples of hideous human abuses taking place right now all over the world. Some of these will be in places outside my existence, some will be just beyond the doorstep, all I will be powerless to prevent. perhaps. Or? perhaps not. I'm an optimist, a pessimist, ignorantly optimistic, wildly pessimistic. I delight and revile myself in others. Some days I pray for the asteroid to wipe us all out, other times I long to languish here another thousand years. I am young, I am tired, I am hurt, I am hurting. Go figure.