Sh*t Happens, but Why Does It Have to be Me?

By any means, I don't want to promote myself as one of those so-called pyschological writer whom we always long to yell "You think you know more than I do???!?!?!".

But really, ask yourself, how many times have you questioned this to yourself? I just did, in fact, it's been hanging on my mind for the past 48 hours. And let me tell ya, it ain't easy to get rid of this ridiculous thought.

At least I know it's ridiculous, though. It's a matter of time before we can walk feeling freely again, no matter how long it's gonna take. Make it short, please! Yeah, you wish, dear!

Oh, how we can get overtly sensitive, prompting to be more and more insecure with what's left in us, and shouldn't be life going on, no matter what? Gimme a break, I need time to mourn over this.

Welcome to the real world, you can't stop the world from spinning just to feel your grievance.
I remember the scene from King Vidor's The Crowd, a very powerful silent film, in which the main character tries to silence the world outside his small apartment as his only adorable son passed away. But what do those people care? Cars keep on moving, people keep on walking, and he keeps on crying. Indeed, it won't be fair if the world has to cease its breathing for even a little while.

Again, a mere nothing of utterance here won't help curing this world's ill-fated crimes. But to be able to unlock what's kept on your feeling, what can we ask more? ;)