Just a little boy.
A poor, defenseless baby, washed up dead, his corpse being plastered all over the interent.
Dead, trying to avoid certain death.
But he is not the only one. An unimaginable amount of Syrian fleeing their country, and countless countries refusing them entry.
Who are we to refuse them entry? Who are we to ignore a people crying out for help?
Syrians aren't parasites, trying to feed off us. They mean no harm.
They're people. They're humans. Like you and I.
So who are we to condemn them to a tragic death? Who are we, mere humans, to be able to play god in these humans lives, forcing them to stay in a war ridden land?
Who were we to allow Syrians to become so afraid, so desperate, that small kids are washing up on our selfish shores?
We are condemning thousands of kids just like them to their deaths every day.
What in the world makes us think that this is ok? Why are we so privileged?
Why are they not treated like people?
Dear Becky; A new series I intend to continue. Becky is a big part of my life. Becky is my anxiety. If you have read my previous blog posts, you will know that naming my anxiety has given me great control and power, but Becky is still alive and can be strong. I find great comfort in writing things down. It helps me to think rationally, something Becky fights hard to prevent. Dear Becky will be my writing to Becky, to counteract the anxiety that she's called me. I will write to see what is real and what is Becky fuelled. Will you find it interesting? Maybe not. Unless you're interested in a mind corrupted with anxiety. I know my mental health is the most important thing, and if it helps me cope with life, then that's amazing. If someone reads this, and learns how to deal with their own mental illness or learns how to understand someone in their life with a mental illness, then even better. Dear Becky, You were strong today. I don't know why. But I didn't let ...
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