(no subject)
In the wake of a tragedy, the people around you feel obligated to skim their layers of care to pass some down to you in your well of misery. I feel as though fake empathy is worse than no empathy at all. It's almost like opening a generic card from your wealthy relatives on your eleventh birthday, only to find a generic greeting with a generic drawing made possible by their generic love. I don't want misery. I don't want sympathy or empathy. In fact, I don't want anything from these people who barely recall my name or my hair color. But. They feel obligated to grind their teeth and deliver their inexpensive words. Is this what comprises compassion? Doubtful. Nothing within their power can stop this gnawing beast in my bones, nor can they spur the cell cycle to regenerate what has been lost.