So, here I am.
It’s been months since we fell to our knees and allowed the waves to wash over our fragmented bodies. They lie wasted like marionettes buried in sand tombs filled in with paper mache for a sculptor to use in his latest project.
Dad. Where are you? Where were you? Why, why, why did you do the things you did? Sex is a disgusting, miserable waste of the human existence and it truly brings out the worst in us: there is no justifying rape. It is just something that can never be right.
I don’t know if there’s such thing as good and evil but I do know that there is perceived right and wrong. Rape is definitely a wrong. But what would be right? Would it be right to take from the rich to give to the poor? Would it be right if I killed someone who was about to kill me? Is that not just selfish? Nowadays people call that self defence. What a world we live in: where the fat are taxed on their sugar intake and where skin colour is separated into white and black like their bodies define their souls but it’s not the case.
Skin colour doesn’t define the human race.
But what does? What makes you, you? What is it that cries in the darkest of night that means that you get to live one more second but a boy in Syria has to rock his mother to sleep; she hears only the sounds of her husband screaming in pain as bombs fall around them. Her son wishes for a brighter future; one where charities don’t need to exist. Very importantly, he does not wish for a different future: he wants this to have happened. He knows that if it did not happen as it is happening, then we will not learn that it should never happen again.
There are 8 million children in and around Syria that have been displaced by a 7 year war that they have nothing to do with. Realistically, the war should have ended, and we should be mourning those that we have lost. Not those close to us, not our soldiers, all of them.
War is a terrible, beautiful, necessary wrong.