(no subject)

[esmenet]

When I heard the news this morning, I went outside for a while and stared at the street. Trees, grass, little flowers, my sunlit house . . . I feel as though I'm living in an illusion. Because running from the police, slipping on blood in the street, seeing your friends killed in front of you: that is "reality".

I don't want to be here, in America. Everything seems oblivious.