Hello my friends.

These past few weeks my heart has been heavy.

As we live our normal lives, everyday, a life is taken.

Someone who has no intentions of starting any trouble is taken to the ground, by gunfire of a close-minded police officer.

Someone is shot in their home.

Someone is gunned down on their school grounds.

This is not just about “gun control,” I am speaking on a totally different matter.

I am speaking on the quality of human life. Why do we live in a world where it is something disposable?

Once someone dies, that’s it. They don’t come back, they don’t get a second chance. But you know who does get that second chance? The person who took the life.

We live in a world were if I were walking to class on my college campus and got murdered in cold blood, trying to simply get my education and contribute to this world, the person responsible would simply live in a prison cell for 20 years, and get a second chance at their life. But me, the college student just trying to be the best me I can be, will lay in the ground for all of eternity.

Not only has my life been taken, but my mom will never get to hug me when I’m really struggling with math, again. My dad, will never get to tell me his really cool stories about growing up, again. My friends, will never get to hang out in a group without sitting in silence because I can’t be there too, ever again.  And my family won’t ever get to hear about my art, and awful jokes, ever again.

We live on a planet where that is normal. A precious life taken? “Quit being such a girl about it, people die.”

You’re right, people die. People shouldn’t be murdered.

And as I lay on my college campus watching the life drain from my body, several other completely meaningful, loved, priceless, and innocent lives will be taken as the gun in the hands of the second-chance-receiver runs free.

Me, nor my mom or dad, nor my friends, nor my family should be worried about the youth going to school, or worrying about going to work, or simply walking around the city, because of the fear that we may not return home.

Something needs to change.

Get off of your high, gun-owning and desensitized horse, and do something.