You might drown in the illusion of "patriotism" or "greater good". You might be lured and tempted to take the easy way out, the way back to how things used to be. You might prefer to sloth much more than to rise up against oppression and tyranny.
It's only that having the decision to sacrifice your peace of mind and the joy of a life so still like a forgotten pond, is the one and only thing that gives you identity. It's only then that you can be defined. A sloth is a sloth. A sloth abandons its son when it falls of a tree and leaves it to die. But a rebel, o a rebel, he is the last one to leave the lands of struggle. Even when a rebel dies, his soul stays to fight back and empower the other rebels, for his memory fuels them like oxygen to humans.
Things will change, eventually. They will. And justice will prevail.