Ants work tirelessly, day and night, to build their homes, and yet it takes a human less than a second to destroy it.

We humans are always the destroyer, never the destroyed. We are the conquerors, builders, researchers, explorers. We are Kings, and the Earth is our footstool.

When you think of all the diseases we’ve eradicated and inventions we’ve created, it’s easy to believe this. Yes, we’ve done amazing things, but I don’t think we’re as invincible as we like to believe.

I first started thinking about this when reading John Green’s “Everything is Tuberculosis.” Green reveals how tuberculosis remains extremely widespread and deadly in low income countries, even though we’ve had a cure since 1943.

To me, the word “cure” indicates that the battle is won, but perhaps it’s only the beginning of the war. The creation of the drug is only the first step in a long process, one so complex that no one person can control the end outcome.

For example, scientists create vaccines and drugs, but can’t control how they are dispensed. The government might control distribution, but can’t control how an individual doctor uses it. And, ultimately, a doctor can’t control whether or not the patient accepts the medicine or if it actually works.

Seeing how tuberculosis continues to be a leading cause of death, despite having a cure, shows that we are far from invincible, and far from being Kings.

We pretend the Earth is our footstool, but it seems to me we are constantly rebuilding in response to problems this world throws at us and situations we get ourselves into. The illusion of control we cling to so relentlessly is, well, just an illusion.

In my literature class, we watched James Howard Kunstler’s “The Ghastly Tragedy of the Suburbs” TEDTalk. In it, Kunstler boldly expresses his opinion on suburbs, a topic he is incredibly passionate about.

While watching it, it occurred to me that no matter how passionate he is or how hard he works, he can’t force his audience to agree with him. He can’t control their response. He could try and try and try, and still might not see a difference.

At first, I felt overwhelmed. What if I never make a difference? What if my voice goes unheard?

What’s the point of trying if it’s all out of my control?

And for some reason, that last question made me think of my parents.

My family, despite having a large influence on me, ultimately cannot control how my life turns out.

Nevertheless, my parents didn’t just give up on me because my future was uncertain. They didn’t just surrender to the unknown; instead, they fought for me.

They spent hours upon hours in years I can’t even recall reading me books and teaching me to be kind.

They taught me forgiveness by showing me grace over and over again, even when I didn’t deserve it.

My siblings taught me how to be intentional and considerate by finding a way to include me even when I wasn’t old enough for their games.

And I know I am the person I am because of my family. Because my parents tried for me.

And this goes so much beyond my own family.

“Everything is Tuberculosis” does highlight the uncontrollable, but even more it emphasizes the power of voice. It shows how Henry, a tuberculosis survivor, created a YouTube channel to spread awareness for tuberculosis. And, John Green himself is a testament to someone using their gift of writing to fight for something they care about.

They both fight, even though they might lose.

Because, even if they lose, they might inspire someone else to keep fighting the battle they couldn’t win.

So, maybe the end is not mine to name. Maybe someone else will harvest the fruits of the seeds I helped to sow.

I might be the ant who works tirelessly to build their home and never sees it fulfilled; or I might be the one who carries the last blade of grass to complete the work that is the collaboration of hundreds of thousands of ants.

My role isn’t for me to decide, nor is it something I do by myself, and I’m learning to be okay with that.

After all, I’m not a King; I’m only an ant, and all an ant can do is keep trying.