To the memory

So once again it has been a long time since I wrote. This time it was because the world lost a great person to suicide. Usually this sort of situation is exactly where my sense of humour would kick in. Call it a coping mechanism if you will. But it didn’t.

Instead trivial things – the type I write about – have become even more trivial. Most things feel like empty small talk. The world, whether it knows it or not, has been touched. It has been changed and yet it continues to move, mindlessly. I’m aware of how I fit in to the mindless cog, unable to detach, but completely aware of my own insignificance. And helplessness.

And this monumental thing has happened, and caused so much suffering, and loss, and questioning and I can only watch. Tears, sleep, words, nothing makes a difference, everything seems at once unstoppable and narcissistic.

I struggled with the question of whether to write something or not. For one, words are so set and entirely incapable of capturing the situation and, secondly, it isn’t my place. It doesn’t feel like my place to say much.

But I wanted to record this moment somehow, and to let you know that the world is different. And now you do.