A secret combination
We all think about tragedies. It doesn't necessarily have to happen to us, it could be anyone's. Maybe it is an underlying feeling in ourselves borne out of sympathy. No, is it empathy? The way we dwell in the sorrow of others like we have none of our own makes me want to believe in the world. Even if it would be a sad one. When I see someone in pain, I hope that this isn't the first time tragedy has struck them. I hope it is the fourth or fifth or second time because by then you'll slowly learn how to cope with it. And the fact that we have to is saddening by itself but aren't we all done trying asking for things to be better? Aren't we all tired of kneeling and praying in front of everyone and everything that makes us want to believe in hope again? Aren't we all tired of making closed rooms, taps running and walls our solace? Aren't you? But the first time. The first time strikes as loud as the clock strikes twelve at night, a feeling of unknown impe...