Couldn't Say It Better

Comfortably Numb

... I’ve been to the demonstrations, I’ve been to the vigils, I’ve written poetry, I’ve preached to those who’ve never cared before and till I’ve never cared again. I went to a demonstration on Saturday, for Gaza, for the people of Gaza, for those who had nothing to do with anything, for those who had everything to do with everything. I yelled at the top of my lungs, I chanted and held banners. I took photos and recorded videos. I wanted to feel like I was actually contributing. I wanted to feel like I was trying and that my trying was relevant, was necessary, that it actually might make a difference.. .But not even five hours later, I was strutting in heels, and make-up, down that same street, the demonstration street, Delmar Ave., headed toward a bar to have a drink or three with some friends. What’s the point of it all? What have I really done? I lit up a cigarette, I took a sip of hard liquor, I said I thought the world is becoming a horrible place to live in, maybe I said that out loud, maybe in my head, maybe the world always was a horrible place to live in, maybe I’m seeing it more now because we live in the “information age.” We also live in the misinformation ago. Words, words, words… They commit a genocide. No, they have a right to defend themselves. They kill women and children and bomb schools. No, these are places where the enemy may be hiding. They rain cluster bombs over the city. No, these, these are not cluster bombs. These are…um… these are… what are cluster bombs?

(Rewa Zeinati)