I don't know.

Maybe it's just me.

Maybe it's just me that feels numb and depressed, even though one of the Boston Marathon bombing suspects is dead and can never hurt anyone again, and his brother/accomplice is in FBI custody.

Maybe it's just me that does find relief that these two can no longer terrorize an entire major U.S. metropolitan area, but cannot join in with the party-style cheers and smiles and chants of "USA USA USA."

Maybe it's just me that appreciates that Boston law enforcement admirably handled the manhunt with precision and restraint, but knows that the cheering residents of Watertown, MA. will probably go back to cursing them out for giving them speeding tickets in a month or so.

Maybe it's just me that suspects there is little joy in the households of all those families who must live with the still-fresh agony of knowing their loved ones experienced a monstrous death, or are now permanently and horribly disfigured or disabled.

Maybe it's just me that thinks about the black-hearted in the world who cheer at American tragedies, for they feel we don't care about them at best, and decimate them at worst.

Maybe it's just me that accepts that our government has done wrong, but also knows that there is no excuse for perpetuating evil on any side, for any reason, for any cause.

Maybe it's just me that thinks that we have a worldwide "perfect storm" situation that will cause more and more young men of any skin color or belief systen to be radicalized, and will strike out at us again, and again.

Maybe it's just me who knows that the NRA and the GOP must be clapping their hands, for a fearful society will buy more guns out of panic, and vote for those who will demonize all immigrants.

Maybe it's just me that can see both a sick, reprehensible sociopath in Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, and a face of a 19-year-old child who looks like he could be one of my son's friends.

I don't know.

I just know that I am sad.