THE SAD STORY OF HUMANITY VOL.1 TOO LITTLE, TOO LATE.
I don’t even know where to begin.
You have been warned before. The signs were clear. You ignored them. You convinced yourselves that history is behind you when it is still very much repeating itself.
You’ve made progress. Some of it even mattered. But most of it was surface-level. Temporary. For every step forward you found a way to erase it. You allowed comfort to outweigh consequence. You built systems that made people easier to ignore and harm. You call it civilization but it runs on damage.
And you only seem to notice when it is already too late.
That is what too little too late really means. You wait until the damage is beyond repair. You wait until the wildfires spread. Until the water becomes poison. Until the air turns against you. Until the bombs fall. Until the genocide is in plain sight and can no longer be explained away. Until the stories of the dead are louder than the silence of the living.
Only then do you begin to speak. Only then does action start. But it is not action. It is response. It is reaction. It is cleanup. The real work should have started long before the bodies piled up.
You say never again and then allow it to happen again.
You are not powerless. You never were. But you’ve created a world that tells you it is someone else’s job to care. That the warnings can be postponed. That someone will step in before it gets bad. Then no one does.
And here you are.
Still alive. Still aware. Still able to choose how to respond. Not to fix everything. That is not possible now. But to at least stop pretending this is normal.
You waited too long.
You wait until forests burn, the air is poison, and genocide is undeniable. Only then do you speak of change. Too little too late.