Someone in my family died from fentanyl at 26. I knew him since he was a little kid. We don't know if they were aware of the presence of that substance, but they certainly were in a higher risk situation. They had a decent life and a loving, if imperfect, family. They just happened to fall into a rougher crowd in middle school and, despite more than a decade of support and help and money, never really broke out of it.

One of my last conversations with this individual: they were excited to go to some convention in Minneapolis that was all about mushrooms and psychedelics. What struck me was how excited they were, how into that community they were. I couldn't relate. I thought to myself, isn't there anything in your life more exciting than this? Rewind 12 years, and I also have a memory of his fascination with tagging buildings on YouTube. The art of it aside, I was so struck by his ignorance to the fact that you're damaging someone else's personal property without their consent.

To deepen the mystery: I grew up in an unstable household, suffered emotional abuse and physical abuse on one occasion. I remember sleeping at a friend's house for a week and begging them not to call the police. When I look at this deceased person's life, whatever grievances they had, it really pales in comparison to my experience. And yet I never touched drugs. It makes me think some choices are not our own - and if it is predestined in some way at birth, well then yes, more compassion is necessary.

Whatever your personal views, it is objectively true that a vaccine would prevent some people from dying, so it's likely a good on balance.

I'm sorry for those impacted by this.