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Jude doesn't do much these days. Does anyone even look at this blog?

Thursday, July 14, 2016

Bastille Day

Today I am hopeless. I am devastated. I am so weary, so tired of hearing of these terrible things, and trying to find the strength to dim them down and be okay with how our world is going. I am so tired of trying, so tired of pretending. I am exhausted. I went to the public toilets and I sobbed. I cried for the pain and the loss of life and the grieving families, and I cried for the hate that will flourish from this. I am still crying and I cannot find the strength within me to stop. I want to hate them, hate them for what they have done to so many innocent people, hate them for creating a false name for a beautiful, peaceful religion, and hate them for turning us against each other. I want to hate them for blurring the lines of what it means to be religious and what it means to be human. I want to yell in their faces, “Fuck you. Fuck you for everything you have ever done. Fuck you for playing god. Fucking you for your destructiveness and your violence. Fuck you for spreading hate. I hate you. I hate you.” But I can’t. I cry and I grieve and I call and message all of my friends in France and the rest of Europe, and I want to say angry things, I want to yell, I want to demand justice, but then I would be fuelling the fire. Their fire. I would be taking their hate and making it my own. I would be doing an injustice to all of the beautiful and innocent lives lost. I will keep going, and I will keep loving, and no matter how many times this happens, I won’t ever yell “fuck you, I hate you”, and more importantly, I will refuse to hate them. Right now I am tired and defeated and I feel small, I feel scared, but I won’t let them win. I refuse to let them make me hate. Instead I will say, “you do not have the right to tell me what to feel. You do not have the right to take away any of my love. I will not let you win.” Today is a terrible day, and I will grieve like so many others. I am struggling and I will keep struggling to recover. But I will, and I won’t let this change my heart. I will pick my heaped self up off the floor, and I will love more fiercely than before they tried to make me hate.