Because I don’t know how to express myself…

When I saw the news about the Boston Marathon bombings, a lump formed in my throat. The type of lump that does not go the fuck away no matter how much you tell yourself it’s going to be okay. The type of lump that prevents you from breathing properly and you have to steady yourself on a chair or lean against the wall. The type of lump I got when 9/11 happened and when I saw the pictures of the adults and children (CHILDREN!) murdered on Newtown.

I placed my face in my hands, as if that action would allow me to parse out everything that was going on. I felt the tears on my face. Another tragedy. Three people killed and one of them a child. A CHILD! And hundreds more injured and dealing with devastating loss.

And the lump in my throat grew.

As the events unfolded this past weekend, I stood in front of the TV, wringing my hands. I tried so many times over the past week to write down how I was feeling, but the words never came. A sentence or two would appear on the screen and then I’d read it and it didn’t sound right, it didn’t sound real and I placed my finger on the delete button over and over again.

Then I came across Patton Oswalt and his Facebook page and in just a few paragraphs, a few periods here and there, he was able to sum up for me how I’ve been feeling this entire time – look at his entry on April 15.

And Patton Oswalt – if you’re ever in the armpit of America known as South Florida, please let me know. I’d love to buy you a beer or two. Heck, I live down the street from a Total Wine – I’ll buy you a few cases if you want, but then you’d have to buy me some dinner or something (there’s a Chipotle nearby as well) because I get hungry when I shop.

All of humanity is not lost. The good outweigh the bad. ALWAYS.

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