theheatoftheart

Death used to scare me. A little blood on my finger, the blank stare in Hollywood films, and the sounds of gunshots sent five-year-old me running to the safety of my room. Is it right I don’t fear it anymore? Maybe that’s not the correct way to say it. Maybe I mean I don’t care for death, not in the way I should. A close relative dying doesn’t strike a chord within me, and tears are hard to muster, even when surrounded by grief. The news of little children shot down does stir emotion and heartache, but after a few moments, my life returns to normal. As if nothing happened. Is it right to only care about De