Murder doesn’t make sense
Murder doesn’t make sense. I hope you don’t ever have to make sense of it. In fact, I pray that you don’t.
Because it doesn’t.
And if you try to make sense of it, and justify it or rationalize it, it steals a part of your soul.
Someone I know, one of my colleagues and teammates was murdered this week. And I only met her a few months ago.
But it still doesn’t make sense. Nor should it. Because murder is senseless. It’s incapable of sense.
Murder doesn’t make sense.