Daily Thoughts/3th of August, 2025

I’ve come to realize something that disturbs. We no longer feel death in the way we once did. The loss of life has been reduced to data points, headlines, and fleeting updates. What was once intimate and shattering is now distant and diluted. When a single person dies, we can still grieve. We can picture them. We imagine their final moments, their family, their absence. But when thousands die, when the numbers rise day after day, we stop reacting. Our minds reject the scale of the loss. It’s too much to carry, so we carry none of it.

We have started to need proof. Not just news, not just facts. Graphic images, videos, something so brutally visual that it pierces through the numbness. Only then do we start to care. The word "genocide" should be enough, but somehow it isn't. The weight of the word has thinned because of how often it is followed by silence.

This is painfully clear in what is happening in Gaza. Entire families have been erased, whole city blocks flattened, children pulled from rubble, yet much of the world looks away. People mention the death toll like it is part of the weather report. We’ve grown used to tragedy. We’ve taught ourselves not to feel it unless it is unavoidable.

This ties into how I’ve always viewed death. I never saw it as an abstract concept or a poetic end. I see it as something too real to be romanticized, too final to be used as metaphor. Death is the moment everything that made a person real vanishes. Not just the body, but the voice, the habits, the tiny memories that only a few people ever knew. And when we treat that as nothing more than a figure in a report, we lose part of what makes us human.

Death should always matter. Not because of how many die, but because each person did.