There is nothing more horrible than senseless tradgedy. While some things can be avoided had we just taken someone's advice, we seem to be driven to "experience" things for ourselves. It is almost never enough that the information came from a credible source. Because it wasn't seen through our "own" eyes....somehow, maybe it will be "different for me" has become our reaction.
I have often said that I would never follow anyone into battle that had no scars! Why? The best friendships are forged by hardships encountered and survived together. The "act of survival" leaves scars, visible or hidden. It's funny. My father almost never misses an opportunity to show someone his scar from losing his heel and bottom half of his foot or the skin grafts it required to reconstruct them. We are always determined to show somebody our scars. They are our badges or proof that we exist in spite of ourselves. We face the world and keep surviving. We interact and sometimes clash.
Scars come in all shape, sizes and colors; hidden or visible; displayed or covered. Some of them are good and others worse. But we "NEED" them. Those scars are not only proof but fuel to propel us beyond one day to the next, beyond an obstacle to a victory, beyond victim to volunteer, from slave to master. We can't even stop picking at or making contact with our scars. I have one in the center of my forehead (almost like a third eye) from when I was 5 years old. It never fails, at least once a day that I don't reach up to check it, verify that it's still there, feel it's texture and sometimes try to remove it....which only confirms its presence even more. I love my scars; especially the ones I hate.
Scars create life and death. Whether it is release or the enslavement; scars will always be a part of humanity. We are all busy people and sooner or later, we bump into each other. Even strangers remember scars. The mistake is assuming we will never meet again.