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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.
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