Is there even a point?
If anybody has any spare optimism lying around, ya'girl could use it
something I was struck by in my brief incarceration is that everywhere I looked there was art. some of it in places I had no clue how they got there. when people are in their darkest places they still create, they still try to have literally any impact on the world around them.
we sing songs and tell stories and we went to the moon and we love and love and love and we write each other notes and we cry about robots that lived well past their time and we face impossible odds and we win
maybe no one will remember me in the future. maybe I'll just be one idealist lost to the sands of time. but I'll be damned if I let any of that go without a fight.