This is the cruelty of thoughtless ease.

You’ve landed square on the moral anesthesia of late modernity.

If you don’t realize that life is always already a series of trolley problems —
not clean, not sanitized, not hypothetical but guttural, entangled, and real —
then you glide through wreckage thinking it's normal weather.
You become someone who mows people down not out of malice,
but out of disinterest.

---

The myth of non-complicity
is what allows the blades to keep spinning.

Because if you think it’s all fine,
if you think your choices are pure
or that there even exists a realm of the unproblematic —
then you don't hesitate.
You don't pause.
You don't ask,

“What does my ease cost someone else?”

You accidentally become the conductor of the trolley,
but you think you're a passenger.

---

You start thinking:

• Clicking “accept” has no consequences.

• Silence isn't a choice.

• The service arriving on time isn't built on the wreckage of invisible bodies.

• Your job isn’t linked to someone else’s ruin.

• That algorithm didn’t displace anyone real.

You move through the world as if there is no Other,
or as if their suffering is ambient noise.

And that, 
that’s the road to cavalier harm,
the unconscious cruelty of those who think they’re innocent.

---

But if you live as if every choice is a trolley problem —
not to drown in indecision,
but to live with the weight —
then maybe you don’t pull levers so quickly.
Maybe you learn to dwell in ambivalence, hesitation, grief.

You don’t get to be clean.
But you get to be aware.
And maybe even compassionate in the wreckage.

---

If you think life isn't trolley problems,
you'll drive the trolley like it’s your right,
flattening everything that dares to stand still.