I can't believe the explosions in Boston. Lately it feels like the entire world is going insane, as if all the crazies have decided that the apocalypse isn't going to happen without their hand in it. At 22, I don't think I'd ever have expected to see so many senseless acts of mass murder in this country. It makes me want to get obliterated. Not that it'll change anything.
Why would anyone do this?
What point could possibly solved by blowing people up?
It makes me want to say fuck it, and drink until the floor comes up to greet me. There are no drugs in the house. Rob wants shrooms, and I want coke, but there isn't enough money for either really, but there's alcohol and some chemicals and maybe some combination of that will make it all okay and I won't have to wonder away anymore hours tonight.
Good night, I hope your friends and family are safe!
- Lucy
Addendum:
One of these nights where I'm refusing to sleep. I guess it makes me feel better. As if staying up I'll figure out what could've caused it, or how someone could arrive at that point. But even now thinking about it, I realize I probably don't have that capacity. So I'm doing meaningless work, drinking monster, trying to soothe myself with Iggy Pop and the pantomimes of a silent MSNBC news anchor. These moments make me feel so empty. The fact that no amount of good deeds can change that bad people or mentally ill people get a horrible plan into their heads and act is a scary truth. It seems to be a growing theme over the past year, and the incidents are only getting more frequent. It's not so much that I'm afraid that I'll get killed, because I'm fairly at peace with death (it is the one inevitable part of life), but the deep sense of sadness for those who are killed and their families. It makes me want to throw a tantrum and curse the ground because it is so senseless.
I never learned how to understand tragedies. No one ever thinks to teach you that.
