This was supposed to be a nice calm Sunday, the kind Beirut has been having for a little while, the kind we pretend to always have even when people are angry, people are fighting or people are dying. We all feel outrage, but it all gets calm in our minds soon enough; we’re used to it.
An hour or so ago, an explosion occurred not so far from my area. Facebook didn’t offer us a “mark as safe” button as it so regularly doesn’t – they’re used to it too – so everyone has been writing status updates informing all others they’re still alive and breathing. We’re not victims…yet. no casualties tonight, no one to mourn, no martyrdom, no blood spattered on the streets for us to walk on seemingly fine but torn up inside. You see, we’re used to it, used to the sirens and the special reports, the sudden shifting of all TV channels to emergency news and death counts climbing as we sit at home rocking our shaken bodies repeating “I’m ok, this has happened before, we’re used to it”. We’re a war country, 10452 sq meters of scars and fear, coexisting individuals coming together when everything falls apart, falling apart when faceless monsters start planting bombs and doubt around our chaotic haven. “Who are they and what do thet want?”, we time and time again ask with no definite answer to calm our anguish, anxiety we hide so well having mastered the art of bottling up our disgust for a place we don’t ever feel safe in. Because, you know, we’re used to it.
I am fed up, fed up of turning on the TV I barely use every time the house starts shaking, I already know it’s not an earthquake. I’ve had enough of having people call or text in panic asking if I’m fine, I’ve learnt by now to identify when it’s not out of boredom. I don’t want Facebook to ask me if I’m safe, I don’t want to have to wonder or have my loved ones tremble at the thought that I or anyone else might not be. I don’t want us to be used to it because this is not something normal to be used to!