Dear Planet Earth,
I donâ€™t know whatâ€™s going on. Nobody seems to have it together right now. We camped out in the desert last night; the those of us who werenâ€™t sobbing about the loss of our friends or former normal lives spent the twilight hours crouched over the enormous hole left the by ginormousÂ metal snake drill.
I was one of the sobbers. We lostÂ seventeen. Seventeen people, seventeen fellow humans who just days ago were considered â€œsurvivors,â€ a word used to show great strength overÂ horrific obstacles. Today, they are â€œvictims,â€ a dead word for dead people that only serves to stress the impact of their finality.
I only knew three of them, all soldiers. Chambers. Seka. Jameson. Even typing their names feels as impersonal as reciting dog tags. Theyâ€™re memories now, and nothing more.
Read more at Beneath Average