Sacred vs Spectacle

Earlier today I was frustrated by the fact that the trains had stopped running during rush hour in New York City. Exasperated, I cursed under my breath, and told the internet masses that I was going to buy a fucking bicycle, since I couldn't trust the MTA.

I was promptly alerted that trains were suspended due to a suicide 4 station stops from where I live. 

I did not feel sad, at first. That was what alarmed me. At first I felt a swell of anger, which was quickly doused with a wash of apathy.

Apathy. And that's when I broke down. 

Somebody fucking died. Somebody was so sad they through themselves in front of an elevated train, and their body parts littered the street below. It's apparently all over twitter, which is disgusting. 

It's disgusting because you take pictures of fireworks. Or of your friends at a party. Some sweet moment. 

What business have we taking photos of spectacular deaths? Someone is heartbroken tonight. Someone is weeping because of what happened today. And you put their broken body all over the internet.

What is sacred?

But should I even have the gall to speak on it? My first reaction was marked indifference. 

I watched my mother die; death is not pretty. It is a part of life, but how sad, how broken does one have to be to actually seek it in such a way? This person felt like they couldn't take that train home. They couldn't take that train anywhere. 

I probably shouldn't feel so fucked up by this, but I do. 

I'm feeling fucked up from my own, creeping apathy. How long until it eats me? Will it? Am I ever going to look for the train? Will you?