There is no justice in this world, only suffering with the occasional “lucky” person. Most people on this earth are tortured until their last days, whether this torture is at the hands of others or from inside of them, it doesn’t change the pain that people are in.

This past spring, I received some terrible news from home; my aunt (whom I had never encountered) was dead. She died on Mother’s Day, what was conveyed to the family was that she had committed suicide; nevertheless there was no logic in the explanation. Now, I do acknowledge that I am an avid viewer of crime shows, although it’s distinctively different when the death is inside your family and the conspiracies, cover up’s, and whatnot have a direct influence on you. My mom decided to not tell my younger siblings the actuality of her demise; therefore they were informed that she had died of cancer. My mom presumed that they would be disturbed enough by death and she didn’t want them traumatized with the complications surrounding her demise. Moreover, this was a logical explanation as her sister; Aunt Cindy was diagnosed with breast cancer several years ago, and has barely been in remission for a year now.

That was all that we heard of it for a month or so. However throughout the summer we received some new information about her death, namely the fact that it wasn’t suicide. Her boyfriend stated to police that she had recently gotten infelicitous information regarding her cancer; although when it was verified with her doctor he informed us that she never had cancer. Subsequently, we learned of the shoddy police work. Regardless of the detail that he had discovered her body, the boyfriend was never suspected by the police. We later learned that he had been battering her, and on the day in question he had been in the house. I have no contempt for those who desire to end their life, they have that right and it is horrendous that we, as a society could have such animosity towards people who are so unhappy with life.
However, my aunt did not commit suicide, she had never owned a weapon and now, despite all of the evidence against him, that man will never go to jail, and my aunt will be remembered as having taken her life. Where is the justice in this world? There is none. All of those ideas about “bad guys getting what is coming to them” are merely fairy tales meant to protect those who are not ready to accept truth, and for those who are still young and living in naïve worlds.

Many people in this world simply cannot receive a break from all of the tragedy which strikes them, my aunt Cindy (the sister of the deceased) was raped when she was in college, my mom had to sleep in her apartment for months after because she had been so traumatized, she suffered with breast cancer for several years (with the chemo giving her horrendous side effects), and now must deal with her sister’s death and try to explain it to her youngest daughter.

Life is not easy, and there is no justice in this world, as I have grown up I have quickly learned this from looking at those around me. Life is not fair is possibly one of the most spoken phrases from parents to their children (aside from “eat your vegetables” and “do your homework”), but I don’t think that this lesson really ever sinks in fully until you have seen for yourself the torment that this world gives people. This torment vicissitudes people so drastically, so that you can hardly recognize them anymore. This suffering affects the young and the old.

An old friend of mine from Taiwan is in deep emotional pain, to counter this inner pain she has turned to external pain- because for her this is easier to comprehend and endure. She drinks, burns, takes random pills, smokes, and doesn’t care any longer. She told me ‘if it numbs me, it’s good’ to her, anything that can stop the pain she will do. It was disheartening to see her like this after so long. She had changed so much. When I had last seen her we were juvenile and innocent. I have fond memories of the two of us riding our bikes in the abandoned streets during a small Typhoon. We were in the same Girl Scout troop and we played laser tag, had bake sales, played ‘zombies’ together. When we slept over we would take the bus down to the general store and buy candy, which we ate while having marathons of monopoly and sorry. Growing up is difficult; you learn things that you wish you didn’t know. The girl in the apartment below my family when I was in the fourth grade was “sick”. My mom tried to explain why she couldn’t babysit for us anymore; but I didn’t understand why she would throw up on purpose nor why that meant she had to leave.

As a child, I couldn’t comprehend that type of pain. Now I can. I know about bulimia, anorexia, bipolar disorder, depression, self-harm, child abuse, domestic violence, murders, drugs, alcohol, bombing, school shootings, war, abductions, rape, neglect, and suffering that I still can’t comprehend. And all of this I have learned simply through living a life. When I think about all the things I now know, some days I wish that I could turn the clock and go back years and years, to live the life that I used to have, when 9-11 didn’t mean anything but adults getting upset, the biggest threat on the streets weren’t the child-abductors or gunmen, but those stupid boys with whom we were in constant battle. I miss all of that, but by growing up I have learned a very valuable life lesson, no matter what you do, there is no help for some.

We are destined to live out meaningless lives and that saying that “god never gives you more than you can bear” makes me furious. If there is a god in this world, then he must be blind to the suffering of people. I have met people who have been dealt more than they can bear. It isn’t a blessing and it is foolish to think of it as such. There is so much suffering in the world, and occasionally it just grows to be too copious. After witnessing so much misery, is it conceivable to believe the world is a happy place? Can you still think of the world as a place of promise and be ready to “fling your arms out” to it? Can you ignore the suffering, pain, misery and still be a little child, one who bikes in the rain, plays games and runs about free as a bird and innocent as can be? Can you still be considered a child? Or, after seeing and understanding the existence of such misfortune, can you become grown up?