Yesterday a boy died in his dorm room from a heroin overdose. Everyone thinks this is so sad and so tragic. Their hearts are in the right place, yet they keep on talking about it. They all just feel so, so awful about the whole situation.
So do I...just not in the way I'm supposed to.
I feel horrible because I don't feel horrible. Yeah, the whole circumstance is shocking. It's unbelievable and absolutely dreadful. I can't fathom being his RA, trying to grasp onto the idea that one of my residents died. I can't imagine being the room mate who tapped on his shoulder, intending to wake him up, only to watch him collapse lifelessly out of his chair. Yesterday morning, two parents lost a son; my heart goes out to them. Yesterday morning, one boy lost a battle against addiction; I pity him.
But I never knew him. I have no idea who he was or what he looked like. In my mind he has no face, no memory. The only thing I know about him is that his name was Caleb Ford, and I only know that because he died.
Unfortunately, this is all he ever will be to me - a name.
I wish this affected me. I wish I could picture him as something more than just a name and a statistic, because he had to have been more than that. I know deep down that he had to have mattered to someone.
But he never mattered to me.
And it worries me that the loss of this human life seems so meaningless through my eyes.
· Sat Oct 03, 2015 @ 01:54am · 0 Comments