On December 14th, 2012 I woke up with a strange feeling that I needed my good luck charm.
Flash forward an hour later...
I was in Newtown High School,
Ten minutes into rehearsing our final play for theater class the loudspeaker came on.
We’re in lockdown.
I laid in the rows of chairs in the auditorium with my peers, in so much silence that the only things you could hear were our hearts beating with fear.
Two hours into lockdown, I overhear from a classmate that a shooting happened at
Sandy Hook Elementary school.
My brother goes there.
He’s in the third grade.
Three hours into lockdown, I get a text from my mom:
He is safe.
Thank god.
I don't know if I believe in you, but I'm still thanking you, god.
Taking attendance to the office was his morning job.
He was right there in the lobby when shit started to pop off.
He ran back towards his classroom,
bullets fly by his head
Casings bouncing on the floor, his principal shot dead
He was pulled out of the hallway
by Mrs. Abbey Clements.
I'm so grateful for her,
and I've always meant it.
Five hours into lockdown an announcement comes over the loudspeaker breaking the silence:
It is now last period of the day. We are resumed to our last period class.
Anyone who needs to get in touch with Sandy Hook families should go to the lecture hall.
I went to the lecture hall.
There were a bunch of counselors and tissue boxes.
Girls sobbing, cell phones ringing, people hugging.
I sat with my friend who lives up the street from me.
She was in my first-grade class when I was a student at Sandy Hook.
We sat and sat until we were the last two in the lecture hall.
A counselor comes up to us and invites us to her office.
We go with her and she turns YouTube on so we can have some music to distract us from the thoughts rushing through our heads.
The school day is soon over and it is time to go home.
My friend has still not heard if her brother is safe.
Later in the night I text her about it.
I do not get the response I was hoping for.
The news helicopters don’t stop flying over my house...
You see, Sandy Hook is one of four elementary schools in Newtown.
Everyone from Sandy Hook lives in the same general part of Newtown.
The shooter lived two streets over from me,
and a handful of first graders in my neighborhood were killed.
Including one that lived right next door to the shooter.
To put it in perspective, when I was in elementary school, I would ride my bike past these houses frequently.
To put it in perspective, I still have to drive by those houses on my way home.
It only took five minutes and 154 rounds,
20 kids and 6 educators,
1 man and 3 guns
for me to start caring about this gun violence epidemic that we face every day...
but unfortunately, I was already too late.
Churches, Night Clubs, Concerts, Schools, Movie Theaters…
Nowhere is safe.
The whole town, country, and even world sits in shock.
Obama is crying,
what did we just watch?
I’m a firm believer in the right to bear arms, but how many more shootings in these United States?
Dirty senators and representatives care more about the money lining their pockets than the kids bleeding out in the streets of their district.
Gun Manufacturers that keep pushing their products to the American people with false advertisements of safety and security.
After all, it’s in our blood.
The flag runs red with the blood of its citizens that have died at the barrel of a gun.
We bleed into its fabric.
But at what cost?
A 32 million dollar donation to the Trump campaign...?
Is that how much their lives are worth?
The NRA puts a price tag on our lives.
They advocate for “gun safety” while simultaneously working to arm kindergarten teachers and take funding away from the National Instant Criminal Background Check system.
Safety for guns?
I was 14 years old when I became an activist.
People expected me to have answers.
I just wanted it all to stop.
I was 15 when I lobbied in a congressperson’s personal office for universal background checks.
People expected me to have answers.
I just wanted it all to stop.
I was 19 years old when Parkland happened.
People expected them to have answers.
We still don’t have answers. We still just want it all to stop.
But then we Marched.
And we keep marching.
And we keep registering people to vote.
And we keep being kind.
And we listen to people's stories.
And we won’t stop until gun violence is as dead as the students bleeding out on our classroom floors.
Congress needs to realize what’s wrong.
Thoughts and Prayers aren’t working,
Trust me, I’ve tried for so long.
