.:: The StrongBrain Collective ::.

Ugh, this backpack is heavy. I didn?t know it would be this heavy. My brother would never have complained about the weight. I must not be in as good shape. If he were alive, he would have been disappointed in me. He?s the reason I?m wearing this backpack. He was famous because of the backpack he wore.

Okay?.Market Street. Quick left. Why do they make me walk? A mile I?ve been walking and my shoulders are about to collapse. Stand up straight. Shoulders back. Market Street. It?s going well so far.

"Well"? How is this going well? I don?t want to do this! I?ve never wanted to do this, to carry this backpack. I chose the short stick out of all my brothers, and each of them would have longed to go! They idolized my brother. It was my oldest brother. He?s a hero in this neighborhood. And I would be shamed if I refused.

There it is. I see the bazaar. People milling around, purchasing, selling, gossiping. Almost there. It?s so heavy, my spine is weakening, along with my will. And it?s only partly because of the contents of this backpack.

I don?t want to hurt these people. I don?t know them; they don?t know me. But I know something they don?t. Something so significant yet so unbelievably tragic. I know that that mother shopping for baby clothes will soon be dead. I know her infant in that stroller will within minutes feel such terror as to welcome the death that will follow. Because of me. And I don?t want to do it. Never have, but I drew the short stick. Allah damn the short stick.

What would happen if I dropped this backpack and walked away? Oh, my brothers would be shamed. My dear mother would become pariah. And I would be killed, probably by the maddened hands of my own brothers. Ironic, because they want to do this, I never have.

I believe my mother. She, nor I, hate these people. That sad man over there, draped in his melancholy. That group of idealistic school children, dreaming of making the world a better place. That vendor, concerned with nothing but putting food in his child?s stomach. They?ve done me no harm. They aren?t the capitalists keeping my country down. That was my mother?s point. How can we win this battle if we aren?t killing the people killing us? And now I?m killing myself to kill the people who aren?t killing my people. And if I don?t, I am dead anyhow, and my family outcast. I cannot turn back.

That policeman is looking at me. Shoulders back. Move on. My shoulders are killing me. This backpack is so heavy. Filled with the hate I don?t feel.

I don?t hate these people. They were born into their lives. They didn?t hurt me or my brothers, or disrespect my mother. They were born into it. Luck of the draw, I guess. They drew the long stick. I drew the short.

And now I must die. And they must die with me. One click of this button, and I?m on the evening news. Why brothers? Why Allah? Why must I do this? Will I really get the virgins promised me? Will that mother and her baby experience paradise? Will those children? Why am I guaranteed this heaven and yet not the people I will murder?

Everything I am. Everything I was. Everything I wlll be is controlled by the contents of this backpack, full of death and sorrow and the burden of guilt. I can feel my hand grasping the trigger. It?s sensitive. I must get into position. Directly into the center of the market. Okay, here I go. The death. The hate. Allah, I believe in none of it. But my mother in rags suffering ridicule is too much guilt to bear. My brothers? shame. Too much to bear. My death at my own brothers? hands. Too much to bear.

I don?t want to do this. I don?t want to do this. I don?t want to.
Help me, Allah. Forgive me, mother. Help me, Allah.

AAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH

*click*

And in breaking news, another suicide bomber has taken his life and the lives of 77 other people and counting when he exploded a large bomb in his backpack, according to several fortunate witnesses. They also reported that the bomber could be heard screaming ?Allah? right before he exploded himself, further evidence about how fanatical these terrorists are, murdering in cold blood innocent people in the name of their God, caring not at all for the lives they destroy?Such vicious, inhuman people?A sad, sad day. More news as it arrives. Stay tuned.