i heard today
that they're saying there's only twelve years left
before global warming goes too far. 
twelve years. 
i'll only be twenty-seven. 
i don't want the world to end
when i'm twenty-seven. 
and i honestly don't know what to think. 
there's nothing so beguiling
as the power of denial. 
nothing like wrapping yourself up
in your won problems 
and consoling yourself with the thought
that twelve years is a long time. 
and indeed, 
there's nothing else i can do. 
i can do nothing to change this. 
sure, 
i can recycle,
and walk more, 
and think optimistic thoughts
but the only thing that that bolsters is my ego, 
my sense that i'm helping the world. 
i already do the first two of those things. 
it makes no difference. 
the people who could actually change this
don't, 
or don't do enough, 
or maybe it's just too late. 
and i don't know what to say, 
or what to think, 
i'm just so angry. 
i want to live my teenagehood. 
i want to write my screenplays 
and i don't want to live in a world where there's a significant chance i won't reach thirty,
that none of my friends will, 
and that's somehow okay. 
i'm angry because i want to deny it
until the next study comes out,
until 2030, 
until it's too late, 
and because i know it doesn't make a difference. 
i'm sure i don't understand everything. 
i'm sure we sophisticated humans could cling to the fringes of the earth
migrate north those of us who can
and grow corn in the northern wilds of canada
happily deaf to the people dying elsewhere. 
but having the future cast in such concrete uncertainty
frightens me. 
and that
makes me angry. 

sorry, i just kind of felt like i needed to vent, so i didn't do any research on the exact specifics. anyways. sorry to sound so apocalyptic.