

There's just something about the death of another human being that disturbs me at a level I can't articulate. Perhaps it is memento mori, the reminder that the Reaper comes to all. Or perhaps it's the incomprehension at such a lack of will to live, despite the understanding that (to quote 'Buffy') the hardest thing in the world is to live in it.
And it doesn't help that about 5 minutes later after I've gone through the whole myriad of emotions from shock to pity, the next question that pops into my head is: Am I supposed to be interviewing people or something?
What kind of monster have I become? >_<
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