feign care and warm concern

the connections ache and pull in my mind, stretched to the edge of snapping. i can’t stop thinking about war and suffering. how it is all related and how it all fits together to form a perfect pile of shit. war. is it really a win/lose thing? i mean, yeah, it ends. but who can say when, exactly, at what moment a war ends? is it the last death, the last suicide, the last refugee drowned in the sea? i scour twitter for the painful details, sifting through the tweets and retweets for some sort of pattern, some sort of explanation. i chew on the cap of my highlighter as i read a book of the last hundred years in the region, trying to find some sense of where this is all going. i need to go back farther, i think to myself. where is my place in it all. nowhere, really. i have no stake in anything in the world. i don’t know why i torture myself. well, yeah, i do. i don’t know what to do with it all though. i have no idea what road i am going down, to what end the pain will come to.

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