I have often wondered about people’s capacities for bearing bad news. Sometimes, I feel like each of us is carrying an invisible bucket which is slowly but surely filling up till it can’t take anymore.

Before the internet, bad news, especially the international kind, was drip-fed to us over periods of time. We had to actually make a concerted effort to seek it out.

My childhood was dominated by the Bosnian War, bombings in Ireland and the emergence of Hamas; however, I didn’t feel like they were in my backyard the way I do with Ukraine now.

Now, from morning till night, my mind and social media are filled with horrific disasters that have taken place mere seconds ago, yet my ability to absorb news has remained woefully the same. I feel myself desensitising more and more just for my mind to be able to protect itself. From what I can see, I am not alone in this.

These last couple of years have brought with them tragic construction accident after tragic construction accident and I can’t help but be angry at the fact that while Miriam Pace’s horrific death rightfully had people shrieking in indignation, that of fellow construction victim Jean Paul Sofia almost two years later seems to have elicited less collective rage.

My mind and social media are filled with horrific disasters that have taken place mere seconds ago- Anna Marie Galea

The only reason I can think for this is that we have become so used to bad news and nothing being done about it that our metaphorical buckets are overflowing.

The pattern the country seems to have taken is genuinely dreadful: we get tragic news that could have been avoided, we wring our hands, beat our chests and ask when things will change, sometimes a few of us march, nothing is done, the news dies down and we woefully begin the cycle all over again.

It’s a rinse repeat, rinse repeat situation – a never-ending Groundhog Day that only makes us more cynical and desensitised. It’s a depressing fact you must accept and ignore if you’re to live here harmoniously.

Reading an interview with Sofia’s mother this week broke my heart. Here we are, days after the fact, and there is yet to be a whisper of justice being served. Why should a mother who is already going through hell have to plead with the authorities for accountability and information about who is to be held responsible?

Is it not bad enough that she has to mourn her son? How can our politicians continue to look the other way time after time? This country only works for the delusional happy and terminally positive. The minute there is some issue, you’re left feeling alone or like it’s your problem to deal with.

It’s like the story of The Emperor’s New Clothes, where we all have to make a group effort to pretend that our leaders aren’t naked and clueless as they strut about smiling from ear to ear at clean, organised charity events.

We cannot allow ourselves to be taken out to sea by the tide because we are tired of the horrors we are forced to witness daily.

Sofia’s death cannot be allowed to become another statistic. It’s time to empty those invisible buckets and force those who are meant to be accountable to care again.