Caught on the Horns of a Dilemma

I feel like I'm going nuts sometimes. I see things because of the studying and thinking I'm doing, and those things are so clear to me; but when I (cautiously, tentatively) bring those things up with others, I am almost always given condescendingly reassuring answers that show me the other person has not done any more research than reading the MSM headlines and yet still feels justified in telling me I am worried about nothing, that the things that appear so clear to me are merely nutty conspiracy theories that have no merit.

That's vague, sorry. I'm just frustrated. And complaining about this makes me sound like I'm convinced of my own moral and intellectual superiority. That's not the case. I know that most other people around me aren't as obsessed with questioning the official narrative as I am, and nor are they as suspicious as I am of the nefarious agendas being played out on the world stage. I don't fault people for being trusting.

I do, however, fault people for being so trusting that they'll justify increasingly self-harming and immoral actions as right and necessary for the common good, and that it is acceptable to use the might of society and/or government to force others into compliance; and, these people say, even if those actions are not strictly necessary, then at least it's better to just go along with it, just to be safe, just in case these measures really do work. Or, even if we all know some things we're being forced asked to do make little difference, it's the optics that count, right?

But I can condemn no one. I have not rocked the boat too hard, either. I have to work, and I have to follow certain guidelines that allow me to work. I haven't taken a stand that threatens my income or forced me to become overtly vocal in public about my thoughts. I am as much to blame as anyone else. I'm more to blame, actually. If I think something is very wrong here--even if few others do--why am I not shouting it out? Why am I not trying to warn people?

The problem with being the guy (or girl) who stands on the street corner, disheveled and wild-eyed, holding a sign that says, "The end is coming!" is that no one will take you seriously. You lose your voice because you can be so easily pigeonholed into the "crazy" box that even if you were speaking absolute truth, no one would believe it. You are easily dismissed. You are no longer valid because you are now Other. This is my fear. This is why I justify quietly planting seeds in peoples' minds, if that's the only thing I can do. If you can get a person to ask a question that they then feel compelled to ponder or to find the answer for, that is sometimes the best--and only--step you can take. As has become crystal clear to me over the past few years, no one comes to this point by traveling the same path. Everyone has their own moment of waking up, but that moment happens differently for each person, and usually it's because someone planted a little seed in their minds, and they allowed the seed to sprout.

My inner mental turmoil, however, remains. Where is it that I draw the line? At what point do I say, "This, and no more!" On which hill am I prepared to die?

And am I actually just crazy? I know I don't have all the answers, but what if I have none of the answers? If I'm just crazy, then at least I would not have to listen to my worries anymore, which would be so much easier. So much easier. But I know I'm not completely wrong, and, thus, my dilemma.