I used to be able to relate to people, and songs, and quotes, and poems that complained about how awful the world is; war, hunger, prejudice- I was so remorseful for all of it. I didn’t understand why I had to grow up in this generation where I was learning to be numb and apathetic at the sight of injustice. I could look at a dead body and no emotion would stir inside of me- that's horrifying. All I believed was that the world was this dark, terrible place and by me complaining, I was better because I could address every flaw of society, and could say that I knew about the problems of today... But, maybe that's just angst. And maybe, I’m meant to live happily. I knew how to criticize everything that was wrong, but I couldn’t do anything about it- and maybe that's why everything seemed so hopeless to me. This angst; this existential teen crisis where you believe that you are meant to fix the world... Well maybe, I won’t cure cancer, and maybe I won’t save the melting ice caps. But, I sure am doing nothing by sitting here and waiting for some impending doom I believe the earth is destined for. Maybe I don’t need to save lives, but I sure can learn to live happily and meaningfully. Because it’s not blissfully ignorant of me to stand around all day and not focus on the terrible tragedies that happen every day, all around us; maybe that's just me surviving. If I were to cry and mourn for every wrongful deed on Earth, surely I would die. I would just die of sorrow, and then what have I done? Nothing. But if I choose to get up each morning with the purpose of making each day count, and if I choose to smile and love the ones closest to me, then maybe I've already made the world a better a place. My refusal to not be defeated is not a sign of a lack of empathy, but truly, a raw sight of bonafide defiance. And when belligerent acts of violence and inequality call to us, we still get to live. We still get the chance to have another day, another week, maybe another year. And we get to decide how to spend it.