power is a scary thing

There’s a moment when you realize the line between right and wrong isn’t a line at all. It’s a shadow—soft, shifting, and impossible to pin down. We grow up clinging to rules because they give us structure, because they tell us how to behave when the world feels too vast and unpredictable. But then, you step into a position of power, or responsibility, or simply adulthood, and you learn that the rules were never designed for clarity. They were designed for control.

We talk about justice like it’s absolute, but justice is just a concept we stretch to fit the situation. It’s the shape we cut from a fabric of compromises. Sometimes it fits. Sometimes it leaves threads hanging, loose ends we try to ignore.

But here’s the thing no one tells you: when you’re the one holding the scissors, you don’t just shape justice. You shape yourself. Every choice you make, every corner you cut or truth you defend—it changes you. It carves into who you are, leaving scars you’ll carry for the rest of your life.

So, the question isn’t “What’s right?” or “What’s wrong?” It’s “Who do I want to be when this is over?” Because the world won’t always remember the decisions you made, but you will. And when you look in the mirror, you’ll have to live with the reflection staring back.

This is a cruel world.