Apathy

I had the most unbearably dull company last night.  Well I mustn't insult the entire group that gathered in good spirits, but the particular person sitting next to me kept attempting to engage me in a forced conversation.  The choppy string of uninteresting remarks was halfheartedly encouraged with equally uninterested 'uh huh's from myself.   This is rather harsh of me but I genuinely wonder if people do not sense the disinterest in such interactions, or they do but see nothing wrong with spewing words that are useless to the listener.  It's either unaware or selfish.  I'm not sure which is worse.  Really, people, it's absolutely okay to sit in silence.  No need for pointless chatter.

In any case, I attended this social gathering out of obligation, and I'm glad I did, but I was in desperate need of solitary silence.  This is usually the case when I need to figure out what I am unknowingly internalizing.  At the risk of sounding too zen, I sometimes need to let the unintelligible noise bounce around in the cavity of my mind so that its echo may give me a hint of what's really going on.  Plus I was exhausted from all the second-hand emotions I have been having all week.

A cruise ship sank and a lot of people died.  I scoffed at the authorities that let this happen.  And then I pitied those who died.  I could not fathom how these students complied to stay inside rather than find open air.  I came across articles about text messages from survivors in air pockets underwater  pleading for help.  Whether fabricated or not, it was fuel enough for vivid imagination. I saw teenagers huddled together in the dark, obviously feeling the ship tipping over as gravity pushed them against a wall.  I wonder when it dawned on them that they should actually get a move on.  The panic they felt when they realized the exit doorway is now up on the ceiling.  The splash of water creeping up their ankles, slowly filling up the room. I felt everything one might feel trapped in a sinking ship.  Let them rest in peace.

As a bystander, we mustn't grieve for the ones who have died.  They are gone, without pain, not left behind.  We must grieve for the survivors.  Those who have escaped, perhaps with guilt.  Those who personally and intimately knew the dead, and must live on with the sudden and severe absence.  Those who can see these dead teenagers leading a happy life and grow old till natural death, and didn't have the slightest doubt that they would share their lives together.  As a bystander who knew nothing of the tenderness of these dead ones' soul, the warmth of their presence,  what right do I have to grieve?  I do not mean to be impertinent, but it is a sacred right that remains exclusive to a select group of people to grieve for the dead.  As a bystander, we must show support and grieve for the survivors, and dare not offer melodrama to the surviving family who has quite enough to handle already.

I can't quite figure out the public response I gather while scanning my Facebook newsfeed. I only see the opposite extremes, those who are grieving out loud and those who are finding the whole thing amusing enough to sensationalize the event.  Of course there must be those somewhere in between who choose to stay quiet in the public domain.  The emotions and trickery displayed on Facebook makes me apathetic.  And this apathy prevents me from seeing things clearly.  That is, until my mom deciphers all my unnerving dreams and until I write everything down as I am now.  I fear for those who may not know what they truly feel or how to feel it because they are told so many different things.  No, I really don't care about other people, I'm just concerned I'll ever become as dull as that.