Back in the '80s, when I was in middle school, sleepovers meant scary movies. Me and my friends, like most kids, I assume, would crash at each other's houses and rent whatever horror flick we could convince an adult to check out for us. One weekend, that adult brought home Faces of Death. And holy shit, that wrecked me.
I spiraled. Couldn’t stop thinking about my parents dying. Fell into a depressive fog that lasted for months. It was a dark chapter in an already dark childhood. Later, in my twenties, I went through the whole rotten.com phase. I knew better, but I clicked anyway. And yeah, it messed me up again. So I’m not naive—gore’s been out there for decades. If you wanted it, you could find it.
But now? You no longer have to look.
This week, my 14-year-old—without even trying—watched the brutal murders of Iryna Zarutska and Charlie Kirk. No warning. No search. Just... there. And she barely flinched. That hit me like a truck. I’m back in that depressive fog again. We’re just casually broadcasting snuff films now? The Zarutska video is literally embedded on Wikipedia.
I'm a raw nerve right now, so maybe I'm overreacting. Russia’s flying drones into Poland. Israel’s bombing Qatar. The U.S. is executing people at sea. Another school shooting in Colorado. DC. Chicago. Trump. It’s all piling up and I feel like I’m drowning in it. Maybe I’m being overly sensitive while worrying about mass desensitization. Maybe it’s just one of those weeks. I know I lean toward doomerism, but a broken clock....
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