Dear America, 
I don’t know what to say. There’s nothing to say that hasn’t already been written, or cried, or shouted. To say it falls on deaf ears would be to willfully ignore that we are being willfully ignored. I am disenchanted with you, America. I thought about writing nothing. I wondered if faced with your own maddening silence if you’d be as disturbed or hurt as I am. 
Gun violence has reared its head in my life  many times. My childhood is littered with its ever changing form. I have seen police brutality. I have seen personal conflict. I have seen accidents. When given the opportunity, I slipped into that sweet place of out of sight out of mind. Then I survived a mass shooting. This monster we have built, that we’ve allowed to grow, is inescapable. It thrives when we ignore it. It festers when we fear it. 
I’ll keep this short, America. I am frustrated with your inability to act. At this point I do not expect you to succeed. I do not expect you to change.

 But I implore you to prove me wrong.
Kindra Neely