R A G E

a boy

In some ways, he was always in love with death. Or maybe Death was always in love with him, because it followed him everywhere. He knew so many people who had died: some peacefully, some violently. Didn't matter, because in the end they all drew the same wretched breath. The last little piece of hope that escapes your body like a tidal wave. The shaking sigh that finally pushes you off the shore of life and lets your cross the river into whatever comes after.

But when time moved the boy closer to his own death, it wasn't so much that he began to despise death...just that he suddenly wasn't so infatuated. Death made him sad. His own death didn't make him that sad, except that he would miss a majority of his loved one's lives, and he knew they would miss him. He didn't want them to be upset if he happened to die, he didn't want them angry or bitter or hateful or depressed. He didn't want them to blame him or to blame God or to blame Death.

When the boy saw images of violence or death, he no longer found it entertaining, like the rest of society. He didn't laugh at people falling down and getting hurt. He didn't hurray when the "bad" guy finally got his comeuppance. He simply looked down at his own hands. He wondered if he would ever kill someone, if he had to. He reasoned that if he absolutely had to, to save his family's lives, he would. But could he live with himself afterwards? No, he didn't think he could. He had started seeing people as people. He no longer saw actors on a screen, characters in a movie. He no longer saw statistics or strangers. All he saw was humans: mothers, fathers, sons, brothers, daughters, sisters, aunts, uncles, children, women, men, adults, teenagers, families, schoolmates, friends--all he saw was humans. He began to wonder, in movie scenes of disaster movies, when cars were crashing and buildings crumbling..he began to wonder about the casualties. Were there children in those cars? Carseats with newborns? What about the daycares and school buses? What about the lovers? The parents? What about the people? Why did no one ever consider the people?

He saw pictures of war, old and new. Most people would glance over and then forget about it. He couldn't get the visual out of his head. The brokenness in people's eyes. The sadness of it all.

He hated how soft his cold heart had grown. 

But at the same time, he was glad how he was no longer apathetic to the world. He was glad he now had compassion, and an entirely new realm of kindness that was finally unearthed inside him.

All he knew that he had to help people now. He had become aware of other people, and he couldn't just stand by.