Why, as I get older, am I turning into a cynic who is starting to believe that there are fewer people out there who care about improving the world than there are who are inherently selfish and self serving - at the cost of others? Or, should I really be asking why did I believe, for so long, that there were more people than there seem to be who care about the world, but just don't know how to go about changing it? What I am asking myself, I suppose, is why aren't there more people out there like myself? But then that leads me to ask if I really care about the world as much as I think I do, or am I really fooling myself?
I once wrote a poem with the closing line: "Why do I ask so many bloody questions?"
