Ecological Systems Analysis

Discussion:
“Revisiting the Virginia Tech shootings: An Ecological Systems Analysis”

Alexis Bird & Rebecca Graham

Instructions: Work with your assigned partner to complete the worksheet below. Post your final worksheet on one partner’s blog, with both names, for class comments and discussion.

1.            Work first on your own to apply the human ecological model to o the Virginia Tech shooting.  Focus on the individual shooter, Seung-Hui Cho. In the first row, fill in the factors present at each level that increased Cho’s risk of perpetrating violence. 

2.            Compare your results with your assigned partner.  Together, modify the first row of the table so it represents your best thinking as a team.

3.            With your partner, discuss what intervention or prevention strategies could have been implemented at each level to prevent the tragedy from happening.  Use the theory to guide your thinking.  Briefly summarize these strategies in the second row.

4.            Together, answer the question following the table, but indicate each person’s answer by name.

Post only one copy of this worksheet on one of your blogs, but with both students’ names.

	Micro	Meso	Exo	Macro	Chrono
Seung-Hui Cho Individual	(a) He was male (b) he came from a culture of strong gender roles (c) mental health issues, including anxiety, social immaturity, and poor social skills (d) isolated himself from family due to lack of communication and quality time with parents (e) peer victimization and racial stereotypes	(a) lack of communication about peer relationships to family and vice versa; two micro systems had poor association	(a) Media coverage of school shootings, leading to admiration for the perpetrators	(a) mental health was culturally shamed (b) language barriers in mental health treatment (c) conflict between Asian American values and United States mental health system (d) lack of affordable health care (e) poor communication regarding available mental health treatment (f) access to guns for those with mental illness (g)	(a) immigration from South Korea to United States (b)
Intervention and Prevention Strategies	Family therapy to discourage the isolation behaviors and encourage functional family activities that will assist in development of social skills	Family therapy to discourage the isolation behaviors and encourage functional family activities that will assist in development of social skills	Education regarding  mental health issues and how to locate assistance	Screening programs designed to limit access to guns for those with mental illnesses Additional mental healthcare programs that are affordable	Immigration preceptorships to provide immigrants or new citizens with individuals/families that acclimate them to US culture, laws, values, etc.

5.            How would the PPCT further illuminate what happened to Cho and how intervention/prevention strategies might be used?

Alexis: The interaction between the process-person-place-time makes a big difference when you consider them all together. Considering the different cultures Cho had to adapt to across different parts of his development when he migrated with his family and the person he became through these changes can explain a great deal of his maladjustment. When you also take into account how both of those interact with his family relationships and peer relationships you get an event more clear picture. Interventions to help Cho adjust to the culture difference and to teach his family the importance, and shamelessness, of getting help for mental illness may have drastically improved his changes of adjusting better after his migration. Although he was already pretty withdrawn in South Korea, putting these practices in place for immigrants may have prevented the development of mental instability and eventual violent behavior.

6.            Explain in the space below how this theory helped or didn’t help you understand the shootings and how such incidents might be prevented.

Alexis: The theory helped me understand the shootings by providing explanations of various aspects of Cho’s adjustment and personality. It explained the way each part of his life and his circumstances contributed to his instability. The culture aspect was very eye-opening as it illuminated the way his culture shamed mental issues and combined with the United States’ poor mental healthcare system created a breeding ground for maladjustment. 

My history, my confession.

I am a different person, completely. There is no question about it. The past year has changed the way I view myself and the world so many times and in so many ways. Let's start from the beginning... Or, the beginning of the chaos.

When I was in middle school my depression began. I felt lost and uneased. I expected to feel free, and it was admittedly nice to be in a school where I was not made fun of for doing my best and being intelligent, but I still did not quite fit in. I kept a smile on my face and fine tuned my sense of humor to keep others laughing, even when I was ready to vomit with anxiety. I was afraid of being rejected so much that I often spent days with stomach aches because a word with a mildly negative connotation was spoken toward me. I engaged in self-mutilation and suicide attempts, which I kept secret. Looking back, I think I was liked. I still have friends from that time and people still find me on Facebook to catch up.

In high school, I was so content. I was confident because I had friends who loved me and I actually fit in. Most of my friends were in another school, but I spent a lot of time with them on weekends. We had fun, shared the same sense of fun and humor. I had my moments of insecurities, but I had a second family, the family of a guy I loved.  We were together for nearly 3 years and even though we fought sometimes and disagreed on some things, we were good together. When we broke up my right before Senior year, I thought I would never love someone again. I was sure of it from the utter, heart-wrenching devastation I felt (in fact, I didn't get over that feeling until over 3 years later). All my friends moved away for college, and I felt lost and alone. That's when I made friends with a few guys who made me feel loved, at ease, good. We had fun and I could be myself-- silly things like candle-light Dominos dinner. My Senior year was wonderful.

College... well, starting college was hard. I nearly lost a boyfriend to suicide. I played the part of his parent, his teacher, his friend, his girlfriend... it became too much for me to handle, and when I received a suicide letter, I felt my heart ripped out of my chest and lay broken on the floor until I heard news of his survival. I wondered if I did the right thing, if I was being punished for pursuing what I felt God had led me to do. Maybe I was wrong and I wasn't in the right place. As my college years went on, I continued in my faith and I grew out of my anger. I had many epiphanies and grew greatly. I was confident in my skills and believed in a future. It wasn't easy, having 3 jobs, being in a leadership position, and going to school full-time.

It wasn't until college came to a close that my life spiraled completely out of control. As much of a mess as I thought I was before, I was still pretty far from the bottom. I got into a relationship where I thought I met the perfect man. He was younger than me, which was surprisingly new for me. Perfect date. Perfect body. Perfect intelligence. Christian, but down to Earth. I lost my virginity, what I always held so, so close to my heart. I instantly felt horrified and cried on his bathroom floor for a good hour. Then I just decided to stand by him, fight for us. Maybe he would be my husband one day. Sex can just be for him. Then he left me after only a couple months because I was emotionally unstable. Found out I had a miscarriage and bled for 22 days straight, nearly needing a blood transfusion. I survived it. I moved on. Got into a relationship with a man 11 years my elder. He had a good mind, we agreed on some big ideas. We dated and had sex. I decided sex was just for someone I loved. For a year. As time went on, I felt very emotionally abused. Everything I did was wrong. My feelings were unjustified. I felt too much or not enough. I was limited in the amount of time I could spend with my friends. They didn't like him and he didn't like them. He didn't want company. He didn't like me traveling without him. I was trapped. I was convinced nobody would love me better so I stayed. We moved to a city where I did not know a soul. Started a new life. Got more miserable. Cheated on him with a person who ended up using me for nothing more than sex. When I finally left, he threw my stuff outside and I had to live with a coworker til I could get my own place. I was diagnosed as bipolar. Ended up with FWBs and temporary boyfriends. My sex partners went from 2 to 12 in six months. I tried to make it mean something, but most of the time it didn't. I wanted to enjoy sex while I could before my disease took that away along with the prospect of childbearing. My last relationship was just me being used by a man-- for my honesty, my trust, my money. my affection.

I was miserable. Lost. Alone. Afraid. Hopeless.

I hit rock bottom one night when I was on my ass drunk. I was with a guy I'd spent time with many times, hung out with and knew he cared about me. I never would have dated him, but we had fun. We usually stayed at my house but this night I went to his house under the condition of no pot and no strangers because I didn't like who he was with his friends. Once I was already under the influence, people I didn't know came over. I had a severe asthma attack and felt like I was dying in the bathroom. They put me in a warm shower to help clear my airways and took off my clothes. Eventually, I ended up laying on the bed, too drunk to move but still aware of my body. Everybody had left but my friend and a random person who had joined the group. I heard the guys talking, basically the black guy asking how much to have sex with me and the guy I knew considering it before saying he wanted me for himself. Unfortunately, the guy I knew was so high and drunk that he became almost completely unaware of himself or what he was saying/doing. The new guy pushed his limits, from sexual assault to rape within minutes. I didn't move because I knew I couldn't fight him off-- I was too drunk. I waited for the guy I knew to say something, to kick him out, to fight with him. Something. Anything. But he didn't. When the black guy finally left, I got up and screamed at the guy I knew. I threw stuff. I was angry. I asked him how he dare let somebody do that to me, how he could not defend me. He didn't believe me. Called me names. Said I was a liar. I tried to find my keys and my phone to get away, to leave. I couldn't. So I ran naked down to a neighbor who called the police.

I was at the end of my rope, utterly and completely broken. My life felt over. My body fought my mind through suicidal thoughts. I fought anxiety, didn't want to leave the house. Didn't want to see people again. My family and friends took care of me, doted over me, loved me, hugged me-- were more incredibly compassionate than I ever knew.

It was my family and my friends who kept me here and got me through it. I ended up shortly after meeting a man. I was falling for him quick, and I felt guilty and weird that I was. I felt like my life should be over, that I shouldn't be surviving this drop to the bottom so quickly. Shouldn't I be lost longer? Why am I not dying of shame and anger and resentment?

I realized that I would never have been in that position if I hadn't drank. I would have left when things started feeling wrong. I would have been able to leave without being intoxicated. I would have been able to think straight and find my keys. I would have been able to fight back. There were so many places in the night that things could have been completely different. So I had found a way to move on. I found a solution, something to blame, so to speak. I don't have to be scared anymore because I won't be in that position again. Then, I realized that, even though in part of my mind and in the mind of everybody who knew of my rape it was way soon, I felt completely in love. This man and I shared the same ideals, political views, parental views. We'd had similar histories with our past relationships. We both always had to be mature for our age. We had the same love language, relationship style. He was incredible intelligent and talented. He was an awesome father of a sweet 6-year-old who soon adored me. He was cute and sweet. He was perfect. He was my boyfriend and I was head over heels in love with Christopher Bird.

We are now engaged with a wedding date set and a venue booked. In only 5 months, I went from rock bottom to my highest high. I have a family. My parents love him and have realized how incredible he is and how he makes me feel. It's quick, I know. But within a week of knowing him, my heart took a leap and I knew he was the one God sent to help heal my brokenness. He is the greatest support. He adores me and I am the best me when I am with him. He makes me want to be a better person, a stronger person, a stable person. The dream I always had of being with someone who made me feel completely comfortable being myself and having a child and a home and a life together-- it was finally true. In my spiral, I had given up on that dream. Now, I am living it. And it is so blessed. And it is so good.

So to those who are judging me for jumping into an engagement too quickly, I want you to know that I understand where you are coming from. If I was looking at someone doing the same thing, I might very well want to tell them the same things you're telling me.

 But with my life, with my past and the path I stumbled down... finally being happy and being me without shame after feeling the ultimate shame... I will take this chance. I will be in love and I will build my life. And I will be proud. I will use my past as my strength. I will put every ounce of my being into being the best person I can. Please do not put a timeline or limits to when I can become who I am meant to be just because you don't understand it.

Needs and Wants

Somewhere around a year ago, a very good friend made a comment leading to a huge personal revelation. At first, I was insulted at the implications but the more I thought about it, the more I realized it was undeniably true:
I have a pathological need to be needed.

I am attracted to distraught people. In some ways, I blame it on my own period of extreme brokenness. I felt so lost and alone and I never want anybody to feel that way.
I would rather be the person they can count on, to sacrifice for them to
keep them from ever doubting
the existence of love. 

If we look at my past relationships, they mostly focus on me providing a need for the other person. Anything from encouraging self-confidence to giving them a place to live to paying for their school. Fortunately, almost all of these people respected me enough that they didn't "use and abuse me." They were always grateful.

I felt significant.
I felt important.
I felt fulfilled.

Fast forward to a very recent addition to this revelation.

In addition to wanting to provide for others what I felt I was denied, I think my maternal instinct in a way factors into the equation. The whole being a provider thing. Also, that is a huge way I show my love and affection for others.

Even greater than this... I realized this morning as I was putting my contacts in to start my day:
I have a pathological need to be needed
because
I'm afraid I'll never just be wanted.

I've been told many times, "stop finding someone who needs you and find somebody who wants you."

And, of course, I absolutely theoretically and philosophically agree.
So why don't I do that?

Because I've never been kept around just because someone wants me.
Friends, yes, they some have.
But in romance?
Not really.
At least, it has never felt that way.

I want to be with somebody who does not need me, but appreciates what I offer.
I want to be with somebody who loves me and wants to be with me.
Just because they think I'm awesome.

I just have a deep-rooted fear that me--just me-- will ever be enough.


I have no deep revelation for how to get over this because, well... I just don't know how to change it. I like being needed. I'd love to be wanted for more than that. Just something to work on, I suppose.

Honesty

I have done a lot of thinking today because I'm feeling very distraught from the epitome of cognitive dissonance, if you will. I don't like talking about specific situations on a published blog. I prefer it be simple and thought-provoking unless the story really adds to the meaning. In this case, the situation leading me to think so deeply is less important than the thoughts to which it has led.

I think something people tend to believe/feel --be it due to society or television or friends or advise-givers, I don't know where it originates-- that when somebody calls you out on something, the only chance you have of surviving is to lie. Like, "if I confess that his/her concern is legitimate, it will be over instantly. At least if I lie, I have a chance of getting through it."

It really is an interesting idea
to choose to become something you are not
to express feelings you do not have
to state events that have not occurred
all in order to "keep peace."
To me, it is a perfect display of cowardice.

If anybody has followed my writings for any period of time, I am convinced he or she would notice my lack of mainstream conceptualizations.

I see things much different;
or perhaps I am one of few who will express thoughts honestly.

Regardless, I am about to do it again. 

As usual, this is MY VIEW.
My view from the depth of my heart in the most honest words I could possibly express in this exact moment (i.e., one day it might change when I gain more understanding and wisdom).

Lying is the most repulsive, pointless, and excruciatingly disturbing thing a person can do to somebody they care about.

Period.

When somebody points out a concern or a realization or asks a question,
the instant thought should not be
        "lying is my only chance"
but rather
        "being honest is my only chance."

There have been multiple people in my past that I have been very close to, strong emotional bond, immense trust... and when something came up, when I voiced a concern, they either played dumb or straight up lied.

I give people the benefit of the doubt and give everybody a chance.
I always will -- and perhaps that's my flaw.

The problem is nobody seems to think the way I do and it always puts me in bad situations.
Honesty is so important.

I would go so far as to forgive somebody for cheating on me if only they were honest.
"Honey, I have been interested in talking to this other person and said some things I shouldn't have said to both of you at the same time. But I want to be with you, it's over with her, please forgive me."

Sure, it will be a challenge, but I would forgive it.
We would move on.

But if I was to find out about it through other means, to find out somebody had a lapse of reason and kissed another girl, or told her he was considering her as more than friends and confront him about it--
lying to me will hands-down, without a doubt be the exact moment our relationship ends. 

We won't be together.
We won't be friends.
We won't recover from hostility and resentment.

And, to add an even more personal element to this confession, every time these situations come up is when I've decided to take a chance in overcoming bitterness/fear/cynicism. It is one of the most depressing things I have ever experienced: to take a chance in trusting someone who seems sure of what they want but turns out having no idea until it is too late.
Sure, I can respect the fear that might lead to lying sounding like a good idea...
but just don't.
Don't.
Do not.
It will kill everything in the end.



"I can always find someone to say they sympathize
if I wear my heart out on my sleeve.
But I don't want some pretty face to tell me pretty lies.
All I want is someone to believe.
Honesty is such a lonely word.
Everyone is so untrue.
Honesty is hardly ever heard,
and mostly what I need from you."
Honesty -- Billy Joel

Meaning of Spirituality

I lost my grandma a few months ago in a very, very painful way (and I’m sure I’ll be posting about that soon since her birthday is coming up). A few days ago, a friend I don’t speak with frequently at all posted on Facebook that his grandmother was passing away and he was broken-hearted. We spoke for a little while about how to get through the pain losing somebody we loved so dearly.

 

Something I told him had me thinking a lot. It was more like a revelation as it came out of my fingertips as I typed to him. I believe that there is something bigger, that our spirits are connected. Sometimes our spirits reach out for something and we don’t even know it. We are flawed and our brains can’t always tell us what we want—but our spirit knows what we need. Our spirit is who we are, and it isn’t afraid to reach out to get what it needs. We are responding to something we didn’t know was even there but it ends up being perfect. 

This got me thinking about the comfort I received from people I have known, the way their spirit touched mine in such an extraordinary way. Three people really came to mind when I thought about it, and it can’t be overlooked that I knew them all from the same ministry. In addition to making me love and respect these people more, this revelation has been about how much hope Campus to City Wesley has given to people like me.

 

The first person that came to mind was a display of love.

Derrick Scott. There was always something incredibly endearing and comforting about his presence. He always had a joy in his eye when he saw people and spoke with them. Even though he always had something on his mind, I always felt important when I saw him because you could always see the respect, joy, and love in his eyes. I can remember a number of times, both at individual coffee meetings and at community nights, where the minute he saw me he smiled and his eyes lit up. No, it wasn’t romantic and I never thought that, but it was just beautiful and comforting to see the way he cared that I was there and hoped I was well. To be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever met anybody else whose genuine eyes impacted me so much.

The next person who came to mind was a display of acceptance and a lack of judgementalness.

Katherine Card. She was a comfort to be around because she didn’t judge, she just comforted and loved. She always had some kind of joy and peace in her eyes, too. She was sometimes distracted with school and struggled with believing in herself. But she was always sweet and loving. The way she held herself, her laughter, her eyes. She was somebody I thought about what she would think about my decisions, and I wondered if I should tell her, not because she judged me but because I kinda didn’t want to let her down. She was genuine and humble in a way that was remarkable, and it didn’t make me feel judged.

Finally, somebody came to mind that seemed to really display joy and peace.

Christina Gonzalez. She went through a lot in her past and in her heart, but she always displayed joy and peace. She was somebody who walked in a room and her laughter lifted my spirits. She was optimistic and sweet. She was very understanding and listened very intently, responded to what you said. But she brought a comfort of happiness. I can remember telling her about a heartbreak, and yet somehow the brokenness went away and I felt joy just being around her. Something about her presence just calmed my spirit and what had me feeling so broken felt so light.

 

It is a miracle to me how my spirit finds what it needs. We are all flawed, myself and these people too. But when you value your spirit and feed it the right positive nourishment, it’s amazing the impact you can make on others.

 

Derrick, Katherine, and Christina are all people who will be the first to admit their faults and fears, but their spirit is genuine and loving. I miss them and I miss the way my soul was comforted when I was with them. I never realized how important this was. I want to bring peace to others’ souls, to be the comfort that others’ souls seek.

The presence of people who value that reminds you that there’s nothing better than allowing God to work through you in that way.

 

They’re encouragement. 

And I value them very much.

Religious Freedom

I am what you might call a Christian. I am hardly an example of what has become the predominant image of so. The title is detested on some level by “non-believers” and accepted by most “believers.” The difference is there is so much more to my beliefs than that which is given by this title. As people get to know me, the tables turn. I am treated as a person by non-Christians and treated as a blasphemer by Christians.* It has led me to decide that the causes that we fight have taken precedence over the command to love.  I have blogged and/or posted many times countering typical radical Christian views. Here is another.

I first want to start with a look at politics within Biblical scripture. It was always in the form of monarchy, or dictatorship, never truly as a republic or democracy. There was one leader. A king. But in the U.S. we are designed as a democracy (or republic, take your pick). The people vote on what should be acceptable and unacceptable. God never really teaches in the Bible how to be in this political system where the rules are set by the people, both the Godly and unGodly alike. He put in place Godly kings (huzzah!) and ungodly dictators (boooo).  What many are doing now is trying to work in the old system where we have a ruler. Only this time, instead of it being one individual person, we are making one religious doctrine. Just as in the Bible, not every citizen had the same belief as the man in charge and for that they were condemned. We are doing the same thing today! If others do not abide by Christian virtues, they do not have the same rights. Maybe we don’t put people to death or, generally, in prison either, but we punish them regardless.

In countries where there is a dictator in power, we say it is unjust and unethical for one entity to call all the shots without consideration to what the citizens want. And, God forbid, if the dictator says every citizen must worship as, say, a Muslim and Christians are put to prison for their beliefs, where they are wiped of opportunities and basic human rights, we get all up in arms. But what are we doing to our fellow humans here in the United States? Isn’t it the same thing? Telling them they do not have the right to love whom they love or love them the way in which they desire to, and if they choose to do so anyways, against our approval, they do not deserve to live a life together with healthcare and a right to have a family? (There are tons of different controversial issues I could insert here but with the recent supreme court decisions, I choose to take up this one.)

The point is that we only support human rights and justice when it involves challenging our own beliefs!

Consider religious freedom, the foundation of our country. We want that right, don’t we? Of course we do. We spend endless time and money and energy and effort toward fighting for Christian rights—we can’t hinder the church and priests must have tax breaks and all that jazz. We will certainly fight for that. The problem here is this: by definition, religious freedom allows that some people may choose to worship as a Hindu, as a Jew, as a Muslim, as a Christian, or to not worship at all. If we fight for Christian rights, we MUST be fighting  for the rights all beliefs.  Otherwise, we are simply fighting for a regression in political values and religious freedoms; we want OUR religion to govern because everybody else is WRONG.  Actually, to be honest, we want our BELIEFS to govern. I look at these values and these fights many who claim to be Christians choose to take up and it is often that I wonder if we are even worshiping the same God, the same idea of love, and much less if we have the same idea of logic.

Regardless, though, we can use the Christian idea of family. The father is the head of household and as part of his duty, he disciplines the children. So if God is the father, it is His duty to discipline. So where does that leave us? What is our place? It is our place to be disciplined by god our Father, and other believers of this hierarchy are called our brothers and sisters. It is not a brother or sisters place to discipline or force siblings to do something. If anything, it is simply our place to encourage one another to walk in the way that pleases the father, but NOT to enforce a father’s punishment. So even if God is displeased by, say, homosexual desires and behaviors and He wishes to punish those who practice it, where do we hold the right to condemn them ourselves and try to make them less of a person for their “shortcomings”? Let’s allow the power to be in God’s hands; after all, He is the Father both of us and of them, whether he is acknowledged or not—which is the foundation of our desire to persuade others to believe in Him. Let Him be the judge and jury. We should love encourage, not hate and enforce.

-End of rant.

*Not everybody, but it is the case more often than not. I do appreciate those who love me and accept my beliefs regardless.

Afraid.

I am being faced with death all around me nowadays.

I always considered myself unafraid of death. Well, not always, but for the past several years. It's inevitable; I have faith in my savior; it is what it is. Now, however, I am facing feelings I did not know I had on the subject.

I know I have considered before my fear of getting close to others for fear of losing them. I have never handled loss very well. I always want to love, but I don't want to lose. Unfortunately, that's a part of life. Death is partly loss. Loss is part of life. Death is part of life. It all sounds reasonable on paper. In practice, I'm unsure of my strength.

A friend of mine -- though I was not close to him, I certainly considered him a friend and was happy to have him a part of my life -- recently died. I spent a day or two in various levels of shock and crying. On April 6th, it is the anniversary of a close friend's suicide. Just over a year ago I dealt with a very close friend attempting suicide. This semester, I'm taking a class about death and dying, therefore reading several books left and right looking at the up close and personal aspects of dying people in their final days. I have dealt with a lot of loss and have been faced with it a lot in a short period of time. I have found that the hardest part of about grasping death for me is that when I lose someone, there is always hope I will see them again. I will walk down the street one day, years and years later, and see them. We will catch up; things will work out. When a person dies, it's forever. No chance. No hope. Just death. Just a gap between two people where love and connection once was. Now we are stuck with the emptiness, sometimes regret, but a lot of hurt.

I get so tired of the pain and the hurting, the feelings of loneliness and emptiness. Death leaves an insatiable place that was once filled, now empty. That person will never return, will never reclaim that part of your life and heart. I know this is all very grim and blunt, and controversial in a way (many people would love to say they're always part of your heart, you can never forget them; I find that to be true, but I also always find a hole along side).

Anyway, the point of all this rambling is that I just finished Tuesdays with Morrie. If you have never read the book, I recommend it very highly. By the end, I was considering how to live my life in a way that loves and connects with others with everything. I was wondering how to walk away having learned something through reading that book about breaking free from the world and living a good life. I considered why the death of someone you know causes such pain.

I realized that I am afraid of embracing life and people and love because there is a chance that one day they will be ripped from my grasp, like the other things and people who have been there and no longer are. I don't want anymore holes. I don't want to miss people, especially because I feel like they don't miss me (in the case of death, this argument is rather invalidated). I dread the day more than anything that my parents die. Although, on the same level, if my sister or the children die, I'll be exceptionally devastated.

Another thing I have noticed is that it is so much easier to consider someone dying of old age rather than any other causes. When a person reaches the end of their life, are contented and tired, it's easier to accept than when someone dies in an accident or a suicide or a murder or of disease. It seems so much less fair and heartbreaking. You aren't braced for the impact.

On a somewhat off-topic, side note, I would like to say it's very difficult to read a book knowing that there is no happy ending. The book is about the death of someone; they definitely die. No miracle to save them. It's rather sad, but at least you are prepared. Still, lack of hope is a little saddening. It seems a lot like life, really. You go into it knowing that it will end. It's inevitable. It's all about how you get to that ending, how you read, how you enjoy it because eventually it will certainly end. Hope isn't really necessary.


I'm not sure what to do with all this, but it definitely makes me cry. I'm hoping to feel my way through this in the next few months and become the wiser.

To be more prepared.
To be less afraid.