I suppose I could be all noble and caring and say that I'm sitting here sighing because I'm worried about the earth/the people on the earth who are so dizzily gleeful after killing one of their own that it's one step short of cannibalistic. However, I know that the earth will have the last laugh as all of us gasp vainly for breathable oxygen. As for the people, the internal struggle I'm watching between narcissism and self-loathing rarely gives me time to give a rats ass about anyone else, to be honest. All sensible people are selfish, but not all selfish people are sensible.

If I did not detest those sympathy-faces, I would go on and on about life and death and what a tragedy and "why, God, why?!" and wax lyrical about the angelic nature of those that have passed, but insincerity is not my favorite personal fault.

The truth is I am sitting here sighing because the mixture of no sleep and depressing poetry makes me wonder if it would be so bad if we all just burned, or maybe just me.