Yes, I’m going there. I know I shouldn’t, but fuck me this drives me nuts. I’m not going to name names or anything like that, I just need to riff a little, so you can turn back now if you aren’t ready for it yet.
Look, I get it. September 11th sucked hard twelve years ago. Most of the world will never get over it, and rightly so. It left a huge crater in a lot of people’s lives, but you don’t need to keep scraping the bottom of the barrel to write something meaningful about it. You don’t have to say anything at all if you don’t want to.
The trouble is that you do want to, and you’re a dramatic whore who will scratch every last shred of an emotion out of this shitty day. It’s as if you’re sitting around saying to yourself, a pet, or a baby, that you have already told 11 powerful stories revolving around 9/11 and you just need to tell one more, because it’s what you do, but what will it be?
Wait, didn’t your sister tell you that her friend lost an aunt in the bombings? You should totally tell the story from his viewpoint. Maybe you can make us feel his pain and suffering, after all, it was his second favourite aunt in the world, and the only person that ever sent him a birthday card. I’ll bet you could even make someone cry over that while they are writing out their comment about how amazing you are, and how their aunt died in the bombings too, and how it was nice to know that they weren’t alone.
Actually, I feel bad about saying that now, because I think that if you help one person get through something; it was definitely worth writing it. I wish I didn’t feel compelled to admit that, because I’m still so fucking mad at all of the emotional hostage taking that surrounds these things. Just say that you remember, then move on.
Well, unless you actually have something to say, but other than that, just put a lid on it.
Holy fuck, I am one miserable prick today. I know that I shouldn’t let this get me mad, but it does. I suppose it isn’t just 9/11 that pisses me off, it’s any post that somebody writes that is meant to manipulate people into an altered sense of emotional well-being.
As I looked into the eyes of the battered, dying man in the photo, I saw my youngest son. Crushed and bloody, he looked up at me and said “Don’t cry, because I’m going to see Nono and Papa in heaven now, Mama. God needs me to make sure Papa takes his medicine and doesn’t hurt Nono anymore like he used to. He told me that it was a very important job, and I’m the only one who could do it. I’m your big boy now, Mama.”
I raised my face to the sky and sobbed. “Why him Lord? Why would you take my baby, when there are so many bad people that deserve to die?”
That was when he answered me.
“I didn’t. You are over dramatizing a fictional scene to get people to compliment your writing skills. You’re a good writer. You don’t need to constantly show people that you can make them cry. People like to laugh too, you know, so why don’t you switch things up a bit.”
Now you all know that I am no stranger to writing a sappy post, but when you read something that I wrote and it makes you cry, there is a very good chance that I was bawling my eyes out as I wrote it. I don’t set out to make you cry about something. That shit just happens. I used to think I shouldn’t post them, but in the end I figured that it wasn’t right to just write it and then delete it. Partly because I secretly want people to tell me how much they loved and related to the story, but also because I like to hear about other people’s experiences. I know that you guys rarely tell me anything, but the odd one does, and that’s good enough for me.
Wait a minute. I do the exact thing that I set out to shame in this post. Dammit all, why do I get so fucking ornery sometimes? Maybe I should have attacked Twitter, because there are some posts getting shared there that drive me nuts. Like I need to see a photo of the back of your friend’s head as he watches the smoke billowing out of the wreckage or the look on your dog’s face as he is watching the towers crash to the ground.
Yeah, fuck Twitter and their stupid, hashtaggy posts. Oh, and, Facebook too.
But wait. I post stupid photos on there all the time…
Fuck it. Do what makes you happy, people. Tomorrow some stunned cunt could fly a plane into your work and make your niece post depressing statuses for the next fifteen years. Nobody needs that shit.
I wanna leave you feeling breathless, show you how the west was won,