RIP Mr. Sung

I guess maybe it's my fault that I've been purposely ignoring all the bad things in this world and living in my own happy little bubble. I told myself, no, you are not naive because you are happy. You see the world for all its evil, and you simply embrace the good things. That's what makes you different. That's what makes you mature. But I looked up Mr. Sung's murder and I cried like a baby, because first of all it was a horrible death for someone who seemed so great (and guiltless!), and second of all I don't know why I've always been so stranger to it all. I don't know why I always have to give excuses to people. I don't know why I always have to give people the benefit of doubt, when it's practically obvious where they stand. I don't know why I always side with the person getting blamed. Maybe it's a good thing. But I don't doubt that if I were to go to downtown Atlanta and start talking with a homeless guy, and he started telling me about all the guys he killed, I would probably sit and nod like a dog, and understand and sympathize, in a weird way. As long as he felt bad about it. That's my justification for everything. Not like it get rids of all the deaths and all the bad things. In fact, it probably makes it worse.

But what I really don't get is why someone would stab such a good guy, and repeatedly too, for no apparent reason. If he wanted to rob the store, he could've done it without killing someone he had nothing against. I guess there's always going to be bad people in this world; that's the best I've got. But is it our faults too? Is it all us pompous rich kids, who turn down our windows to a probably nice homeless guy, who stare condescendingly at the hobos on the bench, who look at a rugged guy in a grocery store and conspicuously turn the other way and walk into the next aisle? Is it our faults, that we press it into their heads from day one that they're bad people. Oh, you're black, and you live in a poor area, therefore you are bad. Is it our faults?

Here I am again, trying to justify the bad people. But you've got to wonder, were they always like that? And are we really that much different, that much better?

Of course, I've got better things to worry about than deaths and murders and silly things like that. Of course, don't we all.