Make Love, Not War

It's about twelve o'clock at night, on a saturday. I think it's christmas time.

I've just finished working a twelve hour shift, and I'm on my way home.

It's Dublin city centre, and I've managed to cram myself on the last tram of the evening.

The trams are about six carts long, bustling with drunkards singing and melodically chattering amongst themselves. There are a few people in the same shoes as me; finishing up a busy work day. I have my headphones on, and I'm trying not to pay anyone any attention.

From the corner of my eye, I spot a fist being lifted high into the air and swinging into a young boys face. I say young boy, he's probably about my age at the time, twenty years old or so. The fist belongs to an older man, I want to say fifty plus, but it's hard to tell with people when they're drunk. He looks like he drinks alot. He has an angry weathered face, and a plump red nose, beer belly to match.

I'm not sure of what started this fight, but the boy dosn't seem interested.

I take my headphones off, to try and gage the situation. The older man is yelling, bitter, slurred words.

It's starting to cause quite a comotion amongst the other passengers.

The boy isn't retaliating, instead he's just taking every blow that the man delivers, trying to cover his face, cowering further back into a sea of people.

It's getting out of hand, I start to feel incredibly uncomfortable.

Whatever has happened, nobody deserves to be treated like this.

I start to make my way through the crowd.

It's a laborious task, as everybody is leaning in, trying to get a gawk.

Phones are out. People are filming what's going on, as opposed to trying to quell the situation. This makes me so angry!

A poor boy is getting pummelled, by a much older and angrier man, and they're filming it to get likes or views, or whatever it is they think they're going to recieve from it.

My heart is in my chest as I clamber down the trams, getting closer to the scene.

I'm in complete disbelief that nobody else wants to help.

I'm a twenty something year old girl, there are many people bigger and bolder looking than me, but I am the one who steps in.

I elbow someone out of the way, I'm filled with rage and animosity.

I grab the man from behind, and yank his coat with as much force as I can stomach.

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!?" I yell at him, and the other passengers.

He takes a swing, and tries to push me. I raise my fist, and slosh him one right in his face, and with two hands, push him with full-force into the chest.

I step in front of the boy, as the man is thrown back into other passengers.

I tell him if he takes even one more step closer to me or the boy I will really hurt him this time.

He pauses, weighing up his options. He slurrs some obsenities at me, but dosn't take another step.

I start yelling at people. I am at my wits end, my brim over-flowing with andrenalin.

"WHY ARE YOU ALL STANDING THERE, EH? FILMING A MAN PUNCHING THE LIGHTS OUT OF A HELPLESS BOY, EH?! DO YOU KNOW HOW OLD I AM?! NO!? WELL I'M TWENTY-FUCKING-ONE!

THIS. IS. NOT. RIGHT!

YOU SHOULD ALL BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELVES!!"

I turn to the boy behind me, his nose is dripping blood, and the bruises are already starting to appear on his face, eyes swollen with tears and fist-blows.

The tram pulls to a hault, and I open the doors, and shove the two of us out the door, giving everyone the finger as I leave, hoping that I've atleast changed one persons perspective of the situation.

I hug the boy, making sure he's alright, trying to show him that someone cares.

We sit on a bench, smoking a cigarette, trying to clean up his face.

He dosn't really know what happened, he looked at the guy and he just seemed to take it the wrong way. HE HADN'T EVEN DONE ANYTHING WRONG!

I just can't wrap my head around this. Why did nobody care, or try to stop it?

Why am I the one, the only one, who felt the need to help.

I didn't think of myself as a particurly caring person, but I will not stand for this kind of injustice.

We chat awhile longer, exchange numbers and go our separate ways.

I'm not even half-way home, I will have to walk another thirty minutes along the canal before I can crawl into bed, as that was the last tram home.

It's so dark. Dimly lit street lights and the occassional car headlights are all that light my path.

I wonder, what if something was to happen to me right now? Would anybody help me? Or would they just whip a camera out to start filming my troubles of the night?

This is what's wrong with our world.

We are all so obsessed with filming and sharing, trying to clamber our way to the top of this popularity contest we call life. We would rather see someone possibly get beaten to death, than to try and help.

We need to change. Stop being so selfish, and self-absorbed. Help eachother out, because we have bigger fish to fry as a nation of human-beings. We need to join forces, not tear eachother down.

I think about this night alot. It has shaped the way I think.

I will always help the underdog; the person in need; the person who can't help themselves.

I stand for justice, for me, and for everybody who comes after me.

I will not be apart of these world-wide games, these injustices.

I challenge you, to help. Don't just be a blind-eye. Step in, and step up.

Be the change that you want to see.

Because ultimatly, that could have been any of us, and I would like to think that if I was in trouble, someone would help me out.

Here's to hoping that there are more people on my wave-length, more people that feel the same, and here's to us, making the changes that we want to see in this world.