Imagine yourself at seventeen years old, trying in whatever way you can to fit into your surroundings and look cool to your friends. This time around its different, though. You have things like social media: Facebook, Twitter, Instagram. Your young mind doesn't quite comprehend the massiveness of possibility these digital webs hold so you just post random dumb things about weed and pussy which come to your mind because you are a hormonal, anxious, dumb teenager just as every teenager is at some point in their life. Then, instead of growing up and becoming an adult and possibly changing your silly young outlook on life based on the only environment you know in reality, you are shot to death. What exactly happened is still up for dispute, but the one thing that is for certain is that you, 17 year old American male, are dead from gunshot wounds inflicted by a middle aged American male, one George Zimmerman. You do not care that he is acquitted of the responsibility of your death because you are dead, you no longer have the ability to care about anything. You are someone's son that was shot to death. What exactly is the point someone is trying to make by collecting the foolish tweets you posted before your death and presenting them as something relevant after your death? They're only words, barely even that probably due to the dismal educational system you were forced into. Is collecting and presenting them as relevant implying that the dumb things you wrote justifies the fact that you are dead?
This hatred in abstract is unfathomable to me. It seems both disconnected and abhorrent enough to continue to antagonize.
Aaron C. Molden
No comments:
Post a Comment