One day there was a boy who dreamed of a perfect world. The spinner in Bangladesh would be paid fairly, the earth would be respected by its denizens, the animals would not be eaten for their flesh and wars would only be real in games.
The boy wanted this dream so badly that he started to avoid the darkness of life. He started to see other people as dragging away his dream and trampling it, for few seemed to show sympathy.
So the boy did less and less until he did pretty much nothing. For that was the only way to stay pure. And the less he saw of those around him, the more terrible they became, caricatures in his mighty mind.
Eventually the boy found his Eden. But in a year or so, he realized that the pain was already done, and no utopia could survive Man. So the boy let go of his dreams of a perfect world, and a thousand doors opened. Now he could strive to make the world a better one, rather than perfect, and that he did (although deep down, he still had his inspiring dream).