it's a bloody mess

"Well, today I found out that there are about 150 empty dorms on campus," my dad says.

I respond: "That seems like a lot... Do that many people just quit school?"

"It's a small percentage of 30,000."

"Wait," says my brother, "I actually thought the drop out rate was higher than that."

"It probably is, but not all of them live on campus."
"I know a kid who dropped out of college recently." I add, "Pretty sure he's in prison now... But hey, I guess there are a lot of different—"

My words catch in my throat.

The list of reasons people don't finish school doesn't need to be discussed tonight.

I drop my gaze from my brother
as the reminder of his friend's fatal car accident sears yet another hole in my heart.

There are so many now, it's amazing I still have a pulse;
That cardiac muscle of mine is beginning to resemble swiss cheese.

As my blood pressure drops, I try to scream.
It comes out hollow, weak and unconvincing, falling on deaf ears.

But I need them to understand.
I need them to realize that life can be cut short in the blink of an eye—
that their YOLO world view doesn't cut it—
that their lives are worth more than that—
worth more than they could ever know.

The blood of God has been spilt willingly on our account.
So what am I worth?
What are any of us worth?

"Worth, value, and beauty are not determined by some innate quality,
but by the length for which the owner would go to posses them.
And broken and ugly things like us are stamped excellent
with ink tapped in wells of divine veins—
a system of redemption that could only be described as perfect." 

[Propaganda]