I get so angry when people go all strictly political and philosophical over deaths in the media, as if doing so would prove how high their intellects are. No one gives a shit about you, okay? No one gives a shit about what you think, or what interesting witty arguments and clever little essays you can come up with. Someone died. It doesn't matter who. A death is a death, and it isn't and it shouldn't be a number, a statistic, or some sort of fun fact to fling around for the sake of spicing up a mundane conversation. There is no need for that cold, detached, and formal smart ass voice. There is no one to impress. There is only a need for silence. I don't know, just a moment of silence? Because someone out there is grieving. Someone out there is in pain. And sometimes I wonder what those who are in mourning think, when they read the newspapers, and their lovers, their family members, and their best friends, become an emotionless word, a dull and random name, thrown without blinking by strangers on a flimsy page that doesn't last past a day. Tomorrow, tomorrow, they will be old news. Tomorrow, they will be forgotten. And who will pause to think of them? Are there footprints or coffee stains on that page? Does it look like the faces are crying if water drips down on that paper? Do people scrawl telephone numbers in blue ink over their black eyes? Do the photos even do them justice? Do people throw them in the bin once they're done?
I can't bear the thought of it.
But then again, what the hell do I know. I'm not any better. All this talk about a moment of silence and I'm not silent. I'm not silent at all.