I don't know what to say. It is extremely strange to feel a sudden surge of sympathy for someone whom I had little, if any regard for. And yet this sympathy is cheap, it is induced by an act of exhibitionism, a blatant tout for pity. But still it is deep. I cannot shake it off.

I feel terrible for her. Yet what does that do? Nothing. You see despite all our shortcomings all our flaws and monstrosities no one deserves to die so early, no one deserves to have such a family. No one deserves to die. I can only say such curses in rage but never in my normal disposition. Her life has been such a mess it is terrible. No, "terrible" does not do justice to it. In this aspect I truly do feel sorry, for not just doing nothing, but perhaps adding to it as well.

It does not help though, that she chooses to make such a big deal out of it. Of pasting gothic pictures and posting fatalistic poems. Of lamenting her terrible fate on an online diary for all to see. To suffer in silence is to suffer in dignity. I would have profound respect for her if she did, that hand in hand with her plight may have driven me to do Something, but no, there is no respect here -

Only pity.

I see no noble heart that plans to leave a lasting impression with the short life she has ahead of her, like a short but brilliant shooting spark that rises from a bonfire in the night. No, I only see one wallowing in self-pity, indulging in a strangely morbid narcissism, and all in all, not using the tragedy in her life to accomplish something. And that, in essence, is why all I feel is simple pity.

Tragedy is a genre of Drama. If drama is life in technicolour, then tragedy is the paint with which the scenes are coloured - Tragedy is power: Power to accentuate your accomplishments, to sharpen your successes and bring brilliant colour to life. Those who fail to use it command nothing but pity. But those who Do - they hold us all in awe.

I think I have learnt something from here.