Sometimes I just wanna stand up and scream a sound so full of frustration the whole world would hear me and stop its awful callous blindness. I wanna find a way to make all these individual people hear so that the group the many groups of individuals will stop doing these things these awful, pointless atrocities to each other. Not just the big ones the Holocausts and grade school shootings the genocides and homicides and global market crime but those awful little not-so-little personal tragedies. I wanna scream out “why?” Why the suicides and relationship homicides and family pets kicked and middle schoolers tortured and all this unnecessary grief. Why don’t people pick up their hands or speak what the they feel or put down their guns or listen? Why do they treat so cruelly or ignore so totally or try to lock up the ones who out of courage or impossibility do? Why do the secrets fester and the oddities squash and the chance to say something different or feel something out of the blue gets kicked to the curb? Why do we punish the people who see and remember and try to do the little they can? It takes courage to try where you shouldn’t because god knows most who try succeed or not pay through the nose or through the heart or through a bleeding whole just the size of a high caliber rifle shot. Why is it so amazing or so frightening to think that some of us reckon the cost and try anyway reckoning that this is no place for a TI-83 because success is impossible and not trying is easy and failing is worth something anyway; but if you fail without trying the cost is more costly than the government is over budget. Does anyone know what I mean? Do I really try too hard just to fail too often picking losers every time? I wasn’t aware we were betting on horses. You do what you can where you can with what you have or you are no person at all just another human being. I would rather die now at twenty one than live to be a hundred knowing a listening ear or a hand up the stairs or anything I could give and live could have changed things for someone for the better and yet I failed to give it knowing I could. Maybe I am strange. Maybe I am too much. But I couldn’t live with myself otherwise.