They tell you these stories when you’re a kid. Stories and fables that have morals.
They tell you that good triumphs over evil. That only good things happen to good people. That you reap as you sow. That evil never prospers.
And then you grow up and all around you, you find evidence that makes you feel… cheated.
You see evil kick good in the nuts ten times over. You see good people battle horrors on a daily basis. You see people getting away with inhuman atrocities. You see evil not only prosper, but buy three houses and land in the suburbs, drive a friggin’ Skoda Octavia and get fat and happy till it retires with an obscene pension.
That’s when you realise the obvious. That there’s a reason stories are called stories. And that while they may have morals, quite often, people don’t. And like everything else in life, if you can’t be bothered to get off your ass to grab Justice by the collar and make it your bitch, then well, you just have to live with it.