I'm not sure why it always takes death to feel like people in this world matter.
There's always remorse and guilt, as if you really would have done something had you known. As if you even had the right to know. As if their business belonged to you. Or that they cared enough about you to tell you their struggles.
They said his name. They said it again. They said he's human. They said he mattered.
Like that ironic scene in Fight Club.
"This is a man and he has a name. His name is Robert Paulson."
And none of that even mattered to the members of Project Mayhem.
