21 July, 2017

We were “just” victims, victims of a hate crime.

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Category: remebrance, Utoya massacre, Victims of hate crime
Community Manager
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article-2018368-0D298EB400000578-836_964x616Written by Silvia Crocitta

The diary should be seen as a flux of conscience and as an imaginative description of Utøya massacre with the eyes of a young one present when the Norway attacks happened. All references are casual and nothing is biographical. 

We stand in solidarity with the victims and survivors, their families and friends.

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21st July 2011

“Tomorrow will be the event, finally! I was waiting for it so much and I cannot imagine how amazing this will be: meeting loads of youth, sharing ideas, spending time with my mates and being together in a summer camp! Isn’t that great?

It will be the first time attending such amazing event in a cozy and friendly location, and after long time that I have heard of such a big chance in the island of Utøya, and I am sure that I will enjoy with the rest of the participants… 🙂

I truly wish to be active, spread democracy, and I have my dreams on what to build for the future. I want to become an inspiration for people, I want to help my friends, I want a better future, I only dream the best 🙂 and I will succeed, somehow, with the support of my family and friends who I care of.

(…) and there will be also that girl who I have a crush on. I wish I could finally get introduced to her and know her. We are even studying at the same University!”

22nd July 2011

“Quick update on my diary! It’s early morning, I’m road to Utøya on a boat with my friends, I am direction to more than 500 young people on an island where we all will be meeting, talking, celebrating and cheering on future.

I could not sleep for the great feeling running through my body!

Utøya, here I come”

“I had a dream, but I fear I will not wake up again.

Memories, moments and lifetime have passed in front of me, and I do not understand: how and why?

I am watching at my hand moving left, and then moving right, but my body is still on the shore, lying down. I see people like me, waving, and with the same surprised, astonished faces… nobody gets what is happening, but we see people still running, falling, and some of them standing up in our same, strange condition.

What is this?

I feel confused.

Turning my head, I again see people running, I hear shooting rampage as falling bombs hitting my ears and my heart, yelling, screaming in fear, and more. I hear insults, I hear begging, and I see someone who is spreading terror, with no mercy, coldly.

I keep asking myself what is this. Why? I want to stop it. But I am not able to.

I gaze further, I see the girl I was fancying for wounded on the ground, I am like paralyzed, I wish with all myself to understand why all of us are running to help the other people, but, somehow, my actions are not real, not true, not effective, and neither not happening.

And in a shot, the enlighten thought comes: my feet are not touching the ground anymore, my dreams fall into pieces, the body of mine is steeped into blood on the shores.

I cry for the future which someone has denied to me, I still feel the pain and the emotions giving a last thrill, a last sight, the last goodbye.

I am dead, and I do not know why, I cannot understand what have I done to be on the earth, eaten by a destiny I cannot reverse or change. I was left no choice.

I am just guilty, I am guilty of being young and having my dreams.”

22nd July 2017

“It will be the anniversary today, and the best would have been yet to come for me, if I would be alive.

Six years have passed by that horrible day when me and tons of young people were killed, shocked and wounded (inside and outside) on that little, magic island of Utøya.

Humans, can you give me a reason why? Because I still make efforts to understand why to use violence, guns and rifles on a group of young people that were only hoping in the future.

Souls we were, and we all now look at the earth with the hope of the future, hoping to send a message to youth and people.

No one deserved to die that day in Utøya, no one of us expected to perish because of ideals, hopes and being young. But it happened.

Who took our lives out, obliging us to leave our families and friends, was even online posting repeatedly, with precise aim and target, words of hate speech.

And now I see… We were “just” victims, victims of hate crime.

 


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