...

I went on a walk earlier. The weather is nice for the first time in months. The gentle coolness that flows through the south in early September, signaling that the fall is soon upon us. I don't go on walks all that often. Frankly, I could do with going on them more. Lately I've only gone on walks when there's something on my mind and I need to get some fresh air in my lungs to think about it.

Earlier today, there was a mass shooting in an Atlanta suburb a 30 minute drive from the house I am writing this from. The school it took place in is in the same district where my sister, an art teacher, just got work. I'm scared. And I hate that I am scared. I'm mad that I keep needing to be scared for the same reason every few months. And I hate that my reaction to this kind of news isn't immediately a desire to mourn the dead, I hate that I've grown numb to it, that this isn't a tragedy but Another Damn Tragedy. It makes me sick. I want to scream and yell and I hate that I'm making this all about how I feel. I know who I should turn my ire towards. The politicians, lawyers, and suits that enabled a country where a 14 year old can kill 4 and injur 9.

I don't have a point here. I just hate how nihlistic I've become about all this. I wish it could be better. I wish things weren't the way they are. I'm sorry.