There is a tipping point.
We think we achieve nothing, but never see the effects of even the smallest things we do. A kind word in the street to a stranger that saves a life, changing a few minds about something important. Who go and change a few more.
When you are at your darkest point, when you can go no lower, when darkness surrounds you entirely, there are just tiny acts, tiny fleeting moments of pure joy. A drip of water onto parched lips, so sweet, it tastes like honey. A cool hand on your skin, a warm, summer, breeze through the window. That is all there is. The only signs amongst the horror and the hopelessness and the bleeps that life is there, waiting.
The smallest act never seems wasted again.
I have often read that great women and men, on their deathbeds regret that they didn't change the world. They died, poor and cold and obscure. Often ridiculed or imprisoned or killed.
But what kind of world would we live in today if they hadn't bothered to try? If only they could look back and see what their little acts did.
It's the ones who never give up that change the world. But one tiny act can be enough. Just changing a few minds about something important. Who go and change a few more.
Until the world changes.