Sometimes I think I feel too much. A skyscraper crashes or a friend of a friend dies, and I take it personally. I didn’t know anyone in the Towers, and I don’t even know my friend’s friend’s name, but I know that I have lost something.
It’s a bright, cool summer’s day, all the more bitter for its beauty. Like the spring day when I visited Auschwitz. Why is the grass so green? To taunt me, to distract me, to give me hope? Or is it just there?
Life is beautiful, but this life is full of death, and that is something that I will always take personally.
What the hell is wrong with me? Am I the only one who’s sane? Or is this just a small taste of how the heart of God feels all the time?