http://www.communityrecords.org/?page_id=3807

This article made me sob. The last time I sobbed was the weekend we found out. All of this sobbing has made me realizing that most of my tears are just 'regular' tears. They're sincere and packed with emotion, but they're nothing to the sobbing. It has a life of its own.

Sometimes I never want to talk about it and sometimes I could go on forever, and always I feel uncomfortable and weird about it. I'm afraid of time passing and of the emotions becoming dulled and 'regular.' I'm afraid of everything.

I'm some parts crying for my own loss, crying for the shock of it, and crying for Josh and Kyle and Parm and Andy and Emily and EVERYONE this has affected to any degree.

Today I found out that he was sitting next to someone when he was shot. In my head, I kept imagining him on that couch (a couch I've sat on) alone. Somehow it was worse for me that someone had to sit next to him while it happened. That made me sob. I sobbed because Andy was so afraid and he was thinking the same thing that Mitch was thinking probably, about trying to make the situation safe again so that no one got hurt. A simple, honest thing to want.

I sobbed because I was one of those people guilty of thinking 'It was a bad neighborhood.' Andy is right, it's just as bad as asking a rape victim if her shirt was low-cut. Victim blaming is not okay in this situation either. So that was something I learned.

I wish it was okay in our society to grind our teeth and pull our hair in public with grief. Or that we could wear a ribbon, or certain clothes which signified to others that we had experienced a great loss. So that they would know why we were maybe acting weird in that moment. I wonder how long I would wear my ribbon for. It feels like forever. I feel like life is pressuring me into moving on, so I can't even feel 'comfortable' in my grief. Everything is rushed and bad.

I'm paranoid like I was before, but in a different way because my fears are founded. You can never be too safe, but it's a fine line between 'safe' and 'not living.' At dinner, my dad started to reprimand me about being in New Haven last weekend. I didn't want to talk about it, not then and not ever. I told him that to stop living is the opposite of what I should be doing. I was very 'me' about it, dinner got quiet and I felt bad. It isn't New Havens fault that Mitchell got stolen from us.

So, please please read the blog article that attaches to that link up at the top there. If not to read about Mitchell, or just pure nosiness, than at least because the writing is phenomenal and maybe you will learn something from it.

Be safe.