Only kindness matters in the end...

So, I've been afraid of my blog this week. I've been afraid of all my emotions, actually. If you're expecting clarity, then read another blog because this one will be clouded and jumbled.

On my sadness: Does it come at random moments in your day? Do you get an image of it all and find yourself crying perhaps the largest tears you ever have? Driving down the road. Taking a shower. Eating breakfast. Sitting in class. I never know when it's going to happen. I try to supress all of it, but it wells up. It is so deep that I am embarassed because I am not even a student at Virginia Tech. Who am I to be sad when I haven't even experienced it myself?

On my guilt: I still haven't let things go. What if this had happened here and the individuals I hold grudges against were suddenly gone? I have not treated people with the kindness and genuine respect they deserve. But, then again, do any of us? Is there such a thing as a stranger? I mean, every single person we come in contact with has an effect on us, even in the most indirect manner.

On my anger: My anger that hit it's peak last night when the news stations released the video of Cho. I tried not to watch it and it's not my fault that I did. It was presented to me as news, so I naively clicked the link on CNN and up popped horror. Something worse than any nightmarish movie I have ever seen. The decisions of the news networks to release that is, what I feel to be, COMPLETELY UNETHICAL. We are saturated. They are vying for viewers at our expense. There is nothing positive that comes out of that video. Just when people had begun to heal, the media ripped the stitches out of the wound. Our nation didn't need to see that. The FBI needed to see that, but we did not. Every time I closed my eyes last night I saw him, pointing a gun at me (as that was the huge picture that appeared on my screen every time I opened my browser. I am a media major, so I understand that this is an industry. What's sad? That that industry is one that exploits us more than any other commercial one.

On my hope: Last night at the vigil I began to let go. I cried the tears I needed to cry. I embraced the community of which I am a part of. I saw they were feeling the same things. I see the kindness in our hearts and I am finally understanding that Emory & Henry college has not only given me the tools to succeed in a career, but they have given me an understanding of love. Love before was this hugely abstract idea that I couldn't quite get my arms around. Love is having a place to run to when nowhere else feels right. Nowhere else felt right last night. I hadn't been able to find solace anywhere, but now, I am okay. I see the VT students binding together and I understand that they have found what they need to make it through. I'm sure they know it won't be easy, but do they have another choice?

On their faces: Their beautiful, beautiful faces. I didn't know them. I am not their family. I am not their friend. What I am is another student who can begin to feel the pain their community is feeling. The hole that was made there. The gaping hole. The realization that they will never hold their friend again, never hold another study session for a French final with them. Never see them walk across a stage in their morterboard. They will feel the effects for some time, even as the rest of the world indulges in other huge breaking news stories. Ten. Twenty. Fifty years will pass and the question will be "Where were you when it happened?" And they will bow their heads and tell somberly of where they were when that meteor crashed into their universe.