Sin is so delicious. Disaster is so enchanting. Danger is so enticing. These negatives, cons of the world, wrapped in glimmering gold attract even the most straightforward of people, be it priest, prophet, or pastor. Something in the way the titanic sank, cries screaming from on board, something in the way the towers fell, disaster filling the air, something about maladies and plagues, disasters and the dead reaches out and pulls us in. But why would something as attractive as the burns and bites of tragedy call to us so? Perhaps, maybe just perhaps, it is that the coils of the snake that slowly strangle us in the darkness are just out of the expected enough to lure us towards them.
Oh, surely no one in this world truly believes that good things will happen to them all the time. People profess that they do not expect happiness within the world, nor do they believe it is guaranteed them. Yet when calamity comes knocking upon their door, the age-old question "why me?" is always asked. Why must tragedy enter my threshold and grace my presence? Surely if a question such as this was asked, a person was not truly expecting disaster, rather things from the more positive side of life.
As to why they were expecting it, well, does it not sound rather human to think that we deserve happiness? We deserve that fairytale wedding with the prince or princess of our dreams. We deserve that happily ever after, the rose bouquet, the job promotion, the moon, stars, and sun. And if, after all, we do deserve such glories and wonders and riches beyond our wildest dreams, would it not be too far of a stretch to say that we expect what we deserve? Though many a man and woman will protest that they do not believe that they truly do deserve such things, inwardly, I believe there remains a part, however small, that clings to the hope and wishes that they do.
This makes tragedies so captivating, so utterly enthralling, because deep inside, we feel it is outside of the norm. Especially when we equate normality to getting what we deserve and what we deserve is the best. The abnormality of a situation going wrong, the drama involved, rather than a peaceful and idyllic scene we've constructed as the perfect picture, the way things ought to be, is so striking compared to the image we have created within our minds. Even more so when the same scene we say day after day – that familiar stretch of road we always drive down – is turned from the usual sight to one containing tragedy, however slight.
After all, is it not abnormalities that catch one's attention? That flamingo in a flock of pigeons, that albino crocodile, that one black shirt amidst a sea of blue. All draw attention to the difference that they display. Is it not the same with tragedy?