I was watching an interview on The Young Turks which was refrencing back to an accident that happened back in 2006. I swear I never even fuckin' heard of this before, but apparantly it was a big deal back then. An 18-year-old girl crashed her dad's Porsche on Halloween night and the pictures of the accident went all over the internet. It was horrible for the family, no shit. I felt so bad for her parents, having to see the pictures of their daughter badly mutilated, just days after her funeral. The whole interview was a kind of follow-up on what the family is doing now to try to prevent sick shit like this from spreading on the internet.

So what's the first thing I do? Yeah, I go look up the damn pictures. I won't make up any defense for myself. I was morbidly curious, but it did take me a long while to actually see the pictures on the links I opened. I kept ignoring the new tabs as long as I could (less than 10 minutes, the hand-basket's calling me), but then of course I caved in and took a look. Even as I saw the pictures of her crushed and nearly decapitated lifeless bloody body crushed up among the wreckage, I knew I shouldn't be looking. I felt (and still do) like I was invading her privacy, almost like I was raping her. The goriness of the photographs had nearly no effect on me; it was just the uncomfortable feeling of dirty guilt that got to me. I spoke to the Dud over the phone shortly afterwards, still feeling like an ass... and she asks me for the link. WTF?! Shit, she's gonna go with me in that basket.

So I'm not gonna be able to sleep now. Not because I was shocked or frightened by the sight of a nearly-decapitated body where the head is practically cleaved in half, face ripped off revealing the crushed skull... but actually because before I went and looked at those photos, I saw her graduation photos, where she's with her family. She was a beautiful young girl, with sisters and parents who love her to this day, and miss her terribly. I wish I could put her broken pieces back together again.

I guess it all reminded me of my father's death all over again, and having to see it. Though not nearly as gory, it was still... weird, and awkwardly painful, watching and smelling the blood gush out of my father's mouth and getting it all over my fingers; feeling his skin grow cold, and seeing how his heart struggled to continue beating even as his body shut down. I've seen animals die before, and it was strange recognizing the symptoms in someone I joked around with and hugged and had lunch with on a regular basis. I miss him terribly, but as he lay there dying, he was just a human body, just a mammal, just an animal ending its cycle.