A good day. Maybe you know what that is. I thought I did. I've since changed my mind. My idea of a good time eventually drug me through the worst hell I have ever known. A hell so deep and dark it could have only been made worse by having to crawl through it alone. I have yet to see a greater affinity of friends than ones made in the abscessed corners of misery.
Is it only the fault of the Tsarnaev brothers, or does the wider society share in the blame? Will science be able to prevent such tragedies? And what about God? If God is in charge of reality, then couldn’t he have prevented such a terrible tragedy?