Lately, I’ve been feeling anxious and depressed every time I open Instagram. The algorithm knows me too well — it knows I’m a dog lover, an animal lover, a climate change activist. It sends me videos that confirm all of it.

And as someone who speaks about what’s wrong with society, I feel a responsibility to see what’s wrong. But I just can’t bear it anymore — the torture, the violence, the unthinkable pain that human beings inflict on animals. Every day, I see it. And I don’t know what to do. Should I stay away from it for the sake of my sanity, or should I keep watching because I mustn’t look away?

It’s such a painful conundrum.

I feed strays. I rescue them. I get them adopted. I’ve done this for years. And at home, I have my three doggos — my children. They’re loved, protected, and cherished. Their presence is the most dominant part of my life. And yet, when I see what’s happening out there, I feel sick — because I know that somewhere, another creature like them is crying, burning, or bleeding.

The truth is, the world feels like a shitty place. And human beings — shittier than ever.

Every time I think people can be kind, I see the opposite. Behind the smiles and the “be kind” slogans, I see the toxicity — people so lonely, so trapped in their own pathology, that they lash out at the weakest, at animals who can’t even speak. It’s nothing new. It’s been happening for millennia. And it’ll continue as long as the human species does.

But then I think of The Lord of the Rings. I think of Frodo asking Sam, “What are we fighting for?” And Sam says, “Because there’s some good in this world, and it’s worth fighting for.”

And I want to believe that.

But most days, I feel more like Frodo — tired, disillusioned, and hopeless.

I was talking to my psychologist today about this — about the state of the world, and the leaders who think only of themselves, never of the collective. It’s heartbreaking.

Even in music, there was a time when artists came together — when Michael Jackson, Tina Turner, Cyndi Lauper, and so many others sang We Are the World. There was hope then. There was unity. Now, everyone’s just singing about themselves. Everything feels so individualistic. The collective pulse is gone.

The world I grew up in had its own horrors, yes — but there was empathy. There was a sense that we could still care for one another. Now, even when people care, it’s often transactional. Everyone has an agenda, a motive.

It’s so hard not to become jaded. So hard not to see through the façade and still hope. Because most times, what’s underneath feels like a black hole.

And that’s what really upsets me.

I’m upset right now.

And maybe that’s all this post is — a vent, a cry, a reminder to myself that I still care, even when it hurts too much to look.