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I shouldn't have to go to bed angry. I shouldn't have to wake up angry. No one should... but you know what? It's better than waking up ignorant or depressed. I actually go to bed angry at society as a whole, especially tonight after reading the newspaper. You'd think I'd learn and not read it anymore. Yeah, me too. It seems only when something vulgarly evil happens, and then only when that event gets vulgar media attention do we bother trying to feel about anything not of ourselves. But even then, it's less feeling than it is finger pointing... isn't it? Well, I hope most people's fingers are directed into the closest mirror over what happened at Littleton. Any reporter you listen to will ask the same questions, "How could this happen? Why did this happen?" I don't think those are the right questions. I know the answer to both. It happened from a build up of a bunch of kids being tired of being tired whores of society, who got delusional along that way. Being teased for years will do that to a person if you have bad coping skills. The question no one seems to ask is, "How did we let this happen?" Believe it or not, you yourself have the power over events such as these. If I was a less moral person, and more absolved to living in a world of fantasy and shit as I am to this plastic society with it's glycerin tears, that could have been me, my school two years ago... two months ago. Littleton, Brantford... just names. Do you know what keeps me sane? Two little things. One is a voice. The voice of my one hero. A definitive rasp that tells me that maybe I am right sometimes. The other I don't want to mention, because when I talk about good things they have a tendency to stop happening, but I assure you this... it is a very minor thing. It's so minor other people wouldn't even give it a thought, but without it getting through the school day would be a lot harder. Someone you don't even know, someone who doesn't know you... they can change everything for no reason at all... except that they want to. I say this, thank God for the little things, the little victories. Sometimes I think maybe if those kids in Colorado had someone to listen to, someone who was not the media, someone who was not a liar, a piece of trash... some other kids might still be alive today. This sounded a lot better on paper when I included what makes me happy, but I refuse to mention what that is, in desparate fear it might go away. Call me superstitious, but it always seems to happen, and having it makes me feel a little better right now, and will make it a little easier to sleep tonight. I hope.
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