I'm not growing up I'm just burning out

"Jafaar’s voice sounds distraught. With connections severed from Homs, he didn’t know what was happening—an unbearable feeling for an activist working on communication nonstop for eleven months. “Where’s the media?” he keeps asking, over and over. He says, “You know we’ve lost twelve people in the villages around Daraa today. The army is preparing Daraa for its tanks and shells, but we stopped working on everything except Homs. Baba Amr is finished. In five more days it will be completely gone. Where is the media?” At this point I’m depressed as well and completely exhausted, and I say, “Jaafar, It’s not going to change anything. The media can’t stop the planes from dropping bombs, it can’t stop the army from walking into Baba Amr to finish what they started. The media can’t do anything.” He’s silent and I feel guilty. I had said exactly what he was thinking, but by saying the words aloud, I had rendered us both obsolete."