A bunch of molecules in the wrong place at the wrong time

I am MAD. PISSED OFF. I screamed. Here is a list of reason why I feel like going into a forest and screaming until my throat hurts and I can not tell my screams from the echoes of my screams.

1. Car Accidents.
2. Death.
3. Car Accidents that cause death.
4. That horrible and familiar feeling when you are going about your daily stupid business and it is interrupted by an email or phone call or a knock on the door that says Someone you have known has died. (p.s. I can be mad and construct sentences at this time because the person who recently died was an acquaintance, a little girl I met just last week, not someone closer to me).
5. And suddenly whatever you were doing seems pointless, why do the dishes, why eat cereal, why ride your bike, why go to class, why worry about commas, why go to work, why do anything besides hug the person next to you and tell them to shut up and stop complaining about the cubicles in their workspace or the deteriorating reading levels of the general public.
6. Sometimes I feel like we set the bar too high. We should be thankful just to be alive.
7. Sometimes I feel we set the bar too low. We should be thankful To Be Freaking Miraculously Alive.
8. Today every child I saw seemed miraculous. Each foot step was a miracle. How had they not been killed yet, they are all so small. I looked at myself in the mirror, just that I looked back was miracle. I saw an old man waiting for an elevator. Just that he had grown old, saggy, and grey was a miracle. I am down in my heart, my stomach, my lungs MAD that it take a little girl dying to remind me of this. To pull me out of my insane nonsense, out of my selfish and egotistical perspective of everyday life to see these miracles. SO MAD> Do you get how mad I am? I want to rip things, my own skin and hair, I want you to know how mad I am. I want you to see the miracles.
9. Sometimes I feel like suffering seems to prove that there is no God. But I don’t feel that way today. I feel like suffering proves there must be a God. If not, the LOGICAL thing to do would be stop living. (I am being dramatic I know, please don’t worry: I am not suicidal). But seriously, LIFE FREAKING SUCKS, DEATH FREAKING SUCKS> THERE IS NO FREAKING REASON TO KEEP OUR SPECIES GOING if there is not something bigger than our planet and the air we breathe. If My heart hurts so bad for this little amalgamation of molecules we called Lizzie, and for all the people who are no longer living and there is no bigger picture, what is the point?
10. I am also mad because while it is impossible and STUPID to compare tragedies, I know that the tragedies I have experienced on the non-existent scale of tragedies are relatively small (I have never been in a war, for example). How much suffering, how much bone-grounding pain they must feel, not physically. How their hearts must shut off to survive. How in the book I read about Rwanda the hunted became animal-like. They were hunted like game and they became antelope. I AM MAD.
11. I give up, and this makes me mad. I can not contain this much madness. And luckily my God does not ask me to. Luckily my God grieves with me. How my eyes ached from crying, and my nose, and my cheeks. They were all rubbed raw. Luckily, I believe there is a bigger picture. Luckily I do not trust myself to make sense of the whole freaking world and make sense of it. Luckily, My God is gracious and provides sleep for us weak, easily distracted, stupid humans.
12. But I am still mad, because in a few days, when I stop thinking about Lizzie and car accidents, I will forget that my fingers are a miracle, that the person next to me on the bus is a miracle, the the bus and the garden, and the tomatoes, even the rotten ones, are all FREAKING miracles. How the earth rotates on its axis around the sun is a freaking miracle. That day is light and night is dark and summer is hot and winter is cold is a miracle. The everyday science that governs the world is a freaking miracle. When the gravity of grief resettles my lungs back into their place of resting that is comfortable, I will forget that breath is a miracle. I don’t want to forget. I want to live life full of love, I want to live life loving people, even if it freaks them out. I want to tell them that I am happy they are alive when I shake their hand and learn their name. I want to tell them they are beautiful and should enjoy the life they are living. I want to tell this to myself. I want to stop worrying about what shoes to wear and what society determines to be appropriate behavior and I want to be amazed by every sunrise and every shadow. I want to see the good in every person, even they guys who are slightly creepy, rocking back and forth on the bus, walking through campus screaming.

Please God, help me not to forget.