It felt wrong leaving Auschwitz.
When touring two death camp’s sects, Auschwitz I and Auschwitz II Birkenau, I felt a deep seated longing to leave the discomfort and exhaustive emotional toll, but shockingly enough it was harder leaving. I felt it a disservice not to sit in a melancholy state and torture my mind and being to even a small extent of what the Jewish community innocently endured. Guilt coursed through my veins. I was disgusted by the thought of entering and exiting through the towering cement poles and barbed wire fence at any moment I pleased. I had access to the bathroom and handed my hydro flask of cold water over to my coworkers when they expressed any minuscule desire to take a drink. I experienced a form of survivor’s guilt, the feeling of a failed humanity. The notion that the Nazis could even fathom stripping the victims to an animalistic state displays the evil and unforgiving nature of humankind and Auschwitz cultivates copious post-Holocaust generations desperately uttering apologies that will never be able to be forgiven.
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