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22 april 1999
Two days ago, two boys went to school and killed people they found there.
They killed boys and girls, adults and students, black and white.
This horror, this rending of life, is the seventh time in the past year (according to the Associated Press) that students have opened fire in their schools. In only one of these instances was no one killed. In that instance, no one was even injured -- but that was sheer luck; the student was wielding a shotgun. I've fired shotguns. No way on God's green earth would I want to be on the business end of one. They don't just make holes, they shred flesh.
We talked about this in karate class last night, about why this is happening and why in rural areas. I can't say for sure why, but I have some ideas, in case of the Colorado shootings, anyway.
One of the things that was brought up in class was that these kids were "outcasts" who were revenging themselves upon the people who had hurt them in the past. I understand this all too well. I understand what it is to be surrounded by people, but to move through them as if they don't realize that you're there -- or worse, that they don't care. I understand what it feels like to want so desperately to stand out, to be appreciated for something, to want to make your mark. I understand what it feels like to watch other people get what you yourself so deperately want -- to be accepted.
I don't understand what can make someone want to kill others for their own pain.
I think I might even understand why these things happen in rural communities. While my instructor insists that teenagers can tell the difference between what's real and what's just TV, I'm not so sure. I think that most of these kids have never sen violent death, or have seen it glorified, and the people who commit murder or who fight and kill in war glorified. Any soldier will tell you: War is not glorious. War is dirty and smelly and bloody and painful.
I think that the inner city kids, who have seen violent death up close, might actually be more reluctant to open fire at random. Their rage is more focused; if they are going to kill, they single out one target.
I don't know for sure why this happened. All I know is that children are dead, boys and girls who will never know what it feels like to walk across the stage at graduation, or feel that pang when your parents drive away from the college and leave you to spend your first night in the dorm alone. They'll never buy that first new car, know the fear and joy of getting married, the over-whelming love of having a child, or the pride of that first big promotion. They'll never buy houses, go on vacations, or have children of their own. Their families can only bury them, and try to go on with their own lives, knowing that the rage of two boys blew great big holes in the substance of their lives.