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obligatory, irrelevant update
Mar. 19th, 2003 10:27 pmNothing I was going to write about is important now. Nothing I was going to complain about, make light of, or burn with my scathing wit (ha) is of importance.
To the people of the world:
I'm so fucking sorry.
I'm so sorry.
It shocked me, my reaction, as I sat with my family, holding a cat absent-mindedly, watching some crappy television show. They broke in, and before the overdone, glossy intro graphic was seconds into airtime, I said outloud, "Oh. shit." I know what was done and it's not entirely extreme(IF that was indeed a bunker and not some fucking school or the like) and it's certainly better than I would expect of our Root 'em, Toot 'em "President". But still....but still... For painful, minutes-long seconds, watching the pre-dawn sky of a quiet city far away, waiting for your country to drop who fucking knows what...I just started shaking and getting sick to my stomach. I stroked the cat in a repetitive motion, more for my comfort than hers and stared, just. fucking. stared. I can't imagine. I don't want to imagine. Because I'm sick enough feeling empathy for something I cannot possibly fully understand.
I've remained fairly quiet on all of this. I don't know why. It's not like me to be so quiet...but I figured that it was apparent how I felt. The man is an idiot and his diplomacy is all but nil and void. But he'll be a hero, and secure our precious, disgusting junkie-desire for oil. To free the Iraqi people, to protect the world...we have no "ambitions" in Iraq. Bull. Fucking. Shit. I suppose I didn't go on about how I feel because I'm tired. Caring wears me out. Not because it's hard, but because I do it to an illogical degree. Some people were never taught empathy, through no fault of their own, I don't know how I ended up with a few more doses than probably necessary. I can recall times spent just crying, crying my fucking eyes out at 10 years old, because the world was so fucked up...because we're so fucked up. Because the right answers seem so obvious.
But who's right, right?
Right.
In the end, I just held my little cat close and told her she was lucky.
There are things in my head that I cannot get out. But I'm tired and very literally sick to my stomach.
To the people of the world:
I'm so fucking sorry.
I'm so sorry.
It shocked me, my reaction, as I sat with my family, holding a cat absent-mindedly, watching some crappy television show. They broke in, and before the overdone, glossy intro graphic was seconds into airtime, I said outloud, "Oh. shit." I know what was done and it's not entirely extreme(IF that was indeed a bunker and not some fucking school or the like) and it's certainly better than I would expect of our Root 'em, Toot 'em "President". But still....but still... For painful, minutes-long seconds, watching the pre-dawn sky of a quiet city far away, waiting for your country to drop who fucking knows what...I just started shaking and getting sick to my stomach. I stroked the cat in a repetitive motion, more for my comfort than hers and stared, just. fucking. stared. I can't imagine. I don't want to imagine. Because I'm sick enough feeling empathy for something I cannot possibly fully understand.
I've remained fairly quiet on all of this. I don't know why. It's not like me to be so quiet...but I figured that it was apparent how I felt. The man is an idiot and his diplomacy is all but nil and void. But he'll be a hero, and secure our precious, disgusting junkie-desire for oil. To free the Iraqi people, to protect the world...we have no "ambitions" in Iraq. Bull. Fucking. Shit. I suppose I didn't go on about how I feel because I'm tired. Caring wears me out. Not because it's hard, but because I do it to an illogical degree. Some people were never taught empathy, through no fault of their own, I don't know how I ended up with a few more doses than probably necessary. I can recall times spent just crying, crying my fucking eyes out at 10 years old, because the world was so fucked up...because we're so fucked up. Because the right answers seem so obvious.
But who's right, right?
Right.
In the end, I just held my little cat close and told her she was lucky.
There are things in my head that I cannot get out. But I'm tired and very literally sick to my stomach.
