The bleeding hearts and artists make their stand

After all it's not easy 

banging your heart against some mad bugger's wall 

(The Wall – Pink Floyd)

It's survival of the cruellest out there, folks. If you, like me, care about anyone else but yourself, you are deemed irrational. A relic. You should be put in a museum for obsolete, quaint ideologies.

I was determined to have a difficult conversation with a person that I have no love for on my terms. I wasn't going to let this person get away with their injustices, not without saying what I had to say. And I cared little what the consequences were. So I poured my heart out, fought for what I believed in. And lost.

I spent yesterday afternoon seething with anger, but feeling powerless at the same time. You can't make a change in this world any more, not by protesting and not by defending those who can't defend themselves. When I feel so powerless, my first reaction is to give up. Quit. Find some undemanding job to do, maybe a desk job where I can mindlessly shuffle papers all day. But the sad thing is that there aren't many bleeding hearts left in this world any more. Soon there won't be anyone left to put up a fight. All that will be left will be robot-like bureaucratic psychopaths that quote laws and regulations and fail to see that it's a human being in front of them. And it makes me want to fight even more. It's just that I feel so alone sometimes.

I put all my anger into my running this morning. I averaged a 5:10min/km for the 5-odd km to the swimming pool. Once there, I swam 700 metres, and then I ran home again. It helps. For a while.