The world burns around me, but my alarm clock insists on its own urgency
Epstein files, war in the Middle East, US, Israel, Iran, drones striking, missiles fired, civilians killed—kids, babies, families. Nuclear talk everywhere. Flash floods in Nairobi swallowing homes, drowning colleagues, washing away livelihoods. Corruption unchecked, looters laughing, government promises evaporating. Family struggling to pay rent. Friend posting about suicidal thoughts. Social media pings with “breaking news” every few seconds: famine, displacement, climate disasters, police brutality, school shootings. And still, I wake up. Brush my teeth. Make coffee. Prepare for Monday. The world burns around me, but my alarm clock insists on its own urgency. I check emails, attend meetings, nod at colleagues, answer calls, pretend the chaos in Syria, Iran, Sudan, Congo, and Gaza is somehow distant enough to ignore. But it’s not distant. It’s on the screen, in the notifications, in my heartbeat. It presses on my mind. Every headline is a weight: another child dead, another fami...