It has not been uncommon, if one is to read certain things online, to find someone proclaiming that 2016 was a bad year. That the combination of fatalities experienced, world events, and other miscellaneous developments conspired to create a year that was, in a sense, a dumpster fire. What the greater collective hivemind seems to forget, however, is the fact that all years are bad. Indeed, if each annual existence is merely a continuous experience of the nature of suffering, then one wonders why we even break up said existence into such things as years or months, given the evident reality and consistency of failure and suffering that exists at all seconds of our lives.
Of course, if one were to assume that the gradual arc of history is one that bends towards justice, one might then proclaim that each year is better than the last. Given, however, rapidly rising income inequality and environmental destruction, it seems that said trend is, coincidentally, about to come to a crashing end. Much like, for example, one's sense of hope.
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