Today we had an assembly with a holocaust survivor at our school. At first I was like " This is sooooo cool! I get to here about it and miss math! OMG!" Completely ecstatic until it entered my brain what the holocaust was. Now being me, and having hundreds maybe thousands (idk I dont count) of people around me crying and feeling terrible for this person was not a good place to be. I walked into the MU and was like Crap why couldnt I have called in sick?!
I was sitting next to my friend telling her about it(she already knows)(and only 2 people know so far k) and she said," Ok Im ready, bring on the tears!" I'm glad I had somebody like that. But it turns out, I couldnt feel nothing, nada. Well from the people around me. I felt everything from the speaker. I think her name was Ms. Sessler. Yah thats it. Either that or everybody around me felt no remorse or sadness for her and her sister. Which would be truly sad.
The speaker turned out to be not to emotional, which was strange. It was her thoughts that were more disturbing. I could pick up everything. Every word that came out of her mouth described picture in her head. It was more like a movie I was seeing. Every smell, taste, wimper of hunger came rushing to my brain. But it didnt matter unless she made me feel sad. I could she everything she saw, I even picked up on her sister a little from her point of view. But the only thing I couldnt grasp was color. All I saw were light browns, dirty whites, and greys. All meshing and swirling into one another. Hard to tell apart each color. It was either emotions effecting it or I've been watching to many black and white movies like Schindler's List. The only time I almost balled with tears was when she talked about her and her sister being 2 of the 32 women saved from that camp. It was when she had to leave behind her mom.
The rest of the time she was pretty stable. She had a mix of being happy from being a survivor, and thinking of the hurtful flashbacks. At the end I looked around and most were in tears, some just with there heads down our looking mournful. But not I. The sad thought was I was happy and looked like an idiot. But of course the speaker was happy after telling of her liberation.
The saddest part for me though was that when she told of how the german soldier whipped her back and I tried to be sad. Like I really tried, because I hated the state of having mixed feelings, but not even one tear would come to my eye. Not one.