i wouldn't call it bitterness. i'd call it frustration.yea. you can attest yourself that i cry only when i'm helpless and i get mad. ssoooo mad. whaat to do?
they'll laugh at walkouts and protests and my stupid useless tears of disgust. and i let it get to me in a more self destructive way. and i'm okay with that. my head can take it. La dee da with the oscars while in another world, some reporter decides to cut out some footage that's going back to the states. it's beautiful.
the funny thing is that because the leveling of buildings and attacking of the region have been going on for some ten years or so, the people live with it. it's part of their lives. ruins and shady deaths are part of their routines. and the next day, you see kids playing in the streets paying no mind to the absence of streets and buildings.
ha...and that's not even half of it.

what's the apporopriate response? you tell me.

Although, my one saving grace that keeps me sane is my family. i'm down here again where stories and reactions are like mine. theirs are magnified and justifiably so, but at least here when i'm talking to mom or even mitra, i don't feel quite so alone as i do up there and don't feel like my reaction is a sign of weakness or character flaw.