No, I'm not going to do it.

I suppose I should have known better.

I haven’t really been following the Titanic tourist submersible story because it scares the hell out of me. I’ve heard more commentary about . . . I don’t know, a bunch of things I wouldn’t have expected to hear commentary about given the nature of the story. But when you have five days to think about and discuss the unfolding of a disaster as it plays out before our eyes, I should have known it would be natural for every aspect of the story to get analyzed and deconstructed.

This, what you’re witnessing in the news and in so many people sharing their thoughts about every last thread of the story on social media, is chaotic deconstruction in real time, chaotic as it is. You have a story that seems simple. A search is on for five people lost underwater. But it’s a very compelling situation that invites us to live vicariously through the people involved, and we have to do something with the feelings it stirs inside of us.

The media notices how captivated everyone is in the story, and (as I have done here, make no mistake) they produce the content our eyes are hunting for, digging up every detail about everyone involved, spinning out as many reconstructions of the story as they can make. We follow our heightened attention and interest where they lead us. And as we sniff our way through the themes and narratives that arise from this once simple story, we come up with our own retellings that give our emotions a safe place to go.

I don’t want to do that. For me, I’m going to stick with the story in its simplest form. Five people onboard a vessel submerged in icy water have gone missing, and no one seems to know precisely where. We don’t know if they’re conscious. We don’t know if they’re alive. We don’t know what has happened. But the possible endings to this story that involve any of them surviving are running out like oxygen, and it’s a terrifying feeling to live with even here in my comfortable nook connected to their suffering only by the thin strands of hearsay and humanity.

I don’t blame anyone for wanting to reframe the story or retell it in a way that gives them something different to think about or feel. I just don’t want to do that. As terrifying as the story is on its own, I’m twice as frightened at the prospect of desensitizing myself yet again.

Editor’s note: that clip from Titanic? I’m sorry, I loved that movie. But what I loved about it was Leo’s humanity, and the way he and the rest of the movie reminded me of how it feels to be alive even when you’re doomed. Yeah, the film is packed with stock characters that mostly lacked the slightest hint of complexity, but sometimes that’s the way we are too. I don’t know. I don’t want to judge anyone on the boat or anyone following the story. I just know we’re all alive for a blink. But it’s a beautiful blink.