mainsqueeze's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- criminal So so so. My internet account has been out of commission for about a week or so due to AOL suspending me for sending mass e-mails. Which, by the way, I didn't even DO. I had a VIRUS, goddamnit, and I think I might even still have it. Good thing I don't particularly give a shit, I guess. In two days, I will be twenty-one. Wait a minute-- TOMORROW. Tomorrow, I will be twenty-one. An old lady. Feels like I'm about a hundred. I've been pretty depressed lately, not because I'm getting old, but because I've been seeing things all over that remind me how tiny and insignificant and short life is. Jeez, that sounds silly. I know it does, but that's the way I feel about it all. Last week, I found out that an old friend of mine was killed in a motorcycle wreck, my friend Stefen. He was young, a little older than me, and he was kind and smart and funny and selfless, and think about this: In one second, one stupid second, all of that was gone. That whole world inside his head, it disappeared. And someday, the world inside my head is going to disappear, too, the special dream-places and the long, winding corridors of thoughts and memories and feelings... just gone. In the blink of an eye. That's such a sobering thought, that no matter how well I live, and no matter what I do, someday, my time will be up, and I will be unmade. I watched Schindler's List for the first time earlier this week. It still shocks me that civilized people, in jackets and ties and shiny boots, inflicted so much horror and pain on other civilized people, also in jackets and ties and furs and lipstick and perfume. My Grandfather was sent to Bergen-Belsen when he was a little boy. I've heard the really bad stories, the ones not even in the movies-- like how he can't hear the song Silent Night without remembering how the Nazis used to hum it as they smashed the heads of Jewish infants against the walls. I saw this picture in Time Magazine once, of concentration camp survivors on liberation day, like walking dead, barely more than skin covering up bones, and I remember thinking, "Why are they smiling?" Because no matter how many times a hero comes in and saves the day, there's still someone who has enough ugliness inside of them to inflict that much agony all over again. That blackness is still alive and well in our world. Look at all of the hate crimes that occur all over the US alone every day. Men dragged down dirt roads behind pickup trucks because they're black. People beaten and tortured because they're attracted to one gender rather than the other. School kids flinging around the words "nigger," "wetback," "chink," "kike," and thinking it's no big deal, that those are just words. THAT is the feeling that has been flooding me lately. Nothing is safe, and nothing is sacred. I can't help but ask myself what the point is, what the hell the use is of being alive in a place where hatred has usurped kindness and the ones so full of hate aren't even willing to open their ears and listen to the other side. There is hope though, right? Please tell me that there is hope, somewhere in the world. 2:08 p.m. - 2004-04-24 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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