And I think that no matter how stoic you are on the outside, no matter whether you're a psychopath or a desensitised serial killer. I think everyone cares, but there's just so much pain in the world that people find it hard to cope with it. In the worst-case people find outlets in spite, like biting down harder when your tooth starts to hurt. People drown themselves in pain because they would rather feel something than nothing. They magnify it for others, because they think that the thrill, the adrenaline, the guilt – at least it's something that can distract them. On the other end of the spectrum, the mundane end, the "normal" end, people are equally as escapist. But instead of fighting, they resign themselves. They lose themselves in drugs, in alcohol, in television, in books, in fantasise and social constructions. They allow themselves to turn a blind eye, become desensitized, go on autopilot, because there's just so much pain that accompanies being human. There's just such a risk of caring.

But that's precisely what it means to be human. We care too much, but we should. It hurts, but the pain means we are alive, the pain means we are true to ourselves. We deceive ourselves thinking that we can live happy lives if we just stop caring, but walls around us and only let in those we trust. But distrusting others, fearing opening up ourselves only makes things much, much worse.

And I'm guilty of hiding. I'm guilty of turning a blind eye to injustice. I'm guilty of pretending that I don't care when there are conflicts, when people are dying, when people are suffering. I pretend that it's all fictional, in a faraway place that has nothing to do with me. And sometimes this self-deception works. But the guilt always lingers. I always have this sinking feeling at the back of my conscious. And that feeling is growing bigger and bigger – it's starting to consume me.

And I wish that I didn't care so much.

But that's not who I am.

I am more than my fears, my flaws, my antipathy.

I will change this world.