I feel like I’m going through a midlife crisis.

When I was in my late teens, my girlfriend at the time accused me of being heartless—that because I didn’t consume information about the pain and suffering in the world, I must not care. What she didn’t understand was that if I look—really look—I break.

That’s where I am right now.

The world is…troubling. That’s not news. And while I have moments of utter despair, my nature pulls me back up after a good cry, trying to find ways I can help. But my help has always been distant: donating, writing letters.

Two weeks ago, I stumbled on two cat colonies in town. Since then, I’ve been feeding them and trying to gear up to trap, spay, and neuter. I’ve always known stray cats suffer. I’ve donated to animal rescues for years. But that was distant knowledge—untouched by proximity. Seeing these cats shifted something. Because I looked. And now I can’t look away.

Today, I went to talk to the other person who feeds them. They weren’t there, so I spoke to someone else. She told me about an orange kitten that recently died there after being hit by a car.

I’d never seen that kitten. But as I drove away, I couldn’t stop crying. I kept thinking about how young it was. How it never got to be loved or safe. My Kit Kat lived almost twenty years. This baby never had a chance. And it tears me to shreds.

Again, none of this is new. But I looked.

I know people suffer, too. That many never experience love or safety. I’m not saying I don’t care. But I like cats more than people. Someone once said that’s because they don’t talk back.

No. Cats disagree with me plenty. But they’re innocent in a way people often aren’t. So many don’t care about them. So many are cruel.

Mostly, though, their presence brings me peace. Joy. And cats don’t just wake up one day and decide they don’t want you anymore. They don’t suddenly say, I don’t like you. I don’t need you. They don’t abandon.

Even if I put all that aside, they’re defenseless against humanity. And I’ve always had a soft spot for the vulnerable.

I’m also dealing with nerve issues from overtraining, which is scary in itself. My body feels like a construction zone, but it’s my heart that’s truly broken. Because I can’t save these cats. I can’t save all of them. I can’t give them all safe, loving homes or even find homes for them. I can’t save the people who are suffering. I can’t save the environment we’re destroying. I can’t make people stop being cruel. I can’t make them care.

I can’t save anyone or anything.

I’ve always known that. But right now, it’s killing me.

Because I looked.

My first cat, Johnny.