I'm going to ask you to be hopeful about the end of the world. It may seem counter intuitive, but there is optimism in this.
Accept that this world is ending. This world you've known and grown up in cannot continue. All the good. All the bad. None of it will last the decade. It will soon be something you only access in memories. Sit with this a moment. Inevitably there is fear. Inevitably the unknown causes your pupils to dilate. The hair to prick up on the back of your neck. How could this not be the case? It's the only world you've known. It's been changing since the day you were born, but it's always felt solid. Tangible. But we all have to agree and look at with clear eyes. When you try to hold it in your hands, it crumbles and slips through your fingers.
Now see the opportunity. Yes, this world you've known is dying. What seeds will you plant that might sprout from its decay? What future might we cultivate in the wide open fields where it once it loomed so large above our heads?
Doom can be seductive. Apathy brings its own sense of comfort. But I believe, earnestly, if we're going to get through this current moment, we need to think about the world we wish to birth after the old has collapsed under its own weight.
This doesn't mean it will be easy. This doesn't mean there won't be countervailing forces, jackboots, or grief. There are others who wish to see new, crueler worlds, after all. But the moment we accept our loss rather than cling to vain hope — that is the moment the cultivation of the next world can begin.