I had a panic call from my brother last summer. He was on a lounge chair in his backyard with his engorged, flaming big toe elevated, waiting for a gout attack to pass, but was being terrorized by an ant. It seems the little sadist was slowly working his way up my brother's ankle, while he helplessly watched. Clearly planning on dancing a military tattoo at the summit, closer and closer to the angry balloon at the top he stomped, stopping every now and again to throw an evil sneer at my petrified sibling.
It didn't end well.
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The world is changed by your action, not by your opinion.
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