<< That Day In Which We Call Yesterday >>
2003-12-09, 10:57 a.m.

I would never write about it on the day it happened. My attention to that day, yesterday is not worth giving. For most of yesterday I saw faces. Faces with laughter, somber smirks, and sarcasm. It was just another day. For most of yesterday I read about it in diaries. So many views, so much laughter on my part. There was one diary, in which the writer called himself an asshole, and he wrote about yesterday as a day where people whine. I agree. There was another diary in where the writer wrote about questioning that day, questioning the conspiracy behind it. I agree. There was this other diary, she believes that this country is shit. I agree. Out all these negative opinions there was the last diary. She wrote about rememberence, and contributing to the love that was shared with others. I agree.

My personal views:

The human world is a game, I do not take this war seriously. Yes, people die, but.. people die everyday. It is only death. People are afraid of the unknown so they use it as a weapon. War is the manifested weapon. War does not scare me. Death does not scare me. So. I do not care about that day. I do not care about the innocent dying. What I care about are the last thoughts in all of their dying heads. The emotions spilled by us survivors. I care about the people like myself that laughed that day and just lived, not worrying about what happened.

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