I want to write about the Paris Terror Attacks.
When I first read about thiese attacks, I felt sick to my stomach. These poor, innocent Parisians, out on a friday night enjoying themselves, now dead, injured, or grieving dead friends and family members. These men, women and children. they deserved better. They deserved a future. They deserved a chance. They didn’t deserve this.
Those who did nothing, who weren’t to blame. What did they do to deserve this type of punnishment? They all – every single one of them – had something to live for, a family to love them and whom they loved; friends who will miss them forever; children and brothers and sisters and parents and aunts and uncles and grandparents who will live, knowing that their relatives died. And what do these deaths achieve? What was gained by, as of 14/11/15 at 12:20 London time, 127 deaths? Who has benefitted from that?
Watching the news reports today, I felt tears roll down my face. And I am a meer bystander, with no relatives or friends in Paris. If I’m crying tears of utter sadness, I can’t come close to imagining the devestation weighing down the hearts of the families of those who were mercilessly murdered. Even now, 30 minutes on, I still feel tears pricking my eyes, and I’m not stopping them from rolling down my face. These people deserve more than our tears. These people did not deserve this.
Rest in piece.