
Discover more from Parallax
I was seventeen years old.
Had my life ahead of me.
Until that day in April 1999.
I was at school at Columbine High.
Two students killed twelve of us and one teacher.
Then themselves.
I died that day.
I was thirty years old.
I was a day trader at work.
It was just three months after that high school shooting.
Another day trader came in mad and started shooting.
I died that day.
I was seventy-six years old.
I didn’t understand what was going on,
But I wanted to help.
I was a teacher at Virginia Tech that day in 2007.
I helped my students get away.
But I died that day.
I was twenty-six years old.
At a bible study at Mother Emanuel in 2015.
A young White man showed up.
We started praying.
He started shooting.
And I died that day.
I was eighteen years old.
I was at Parkland High School in 2018.
Another school shooting?
Yes, another high school shooting.
The shooter got a life sentence.
I died that day.
I was eighty-six years old.
Shopping at Tops Friendly Market in 2022.
An eighteen-year old man came into the store,
Opened fire, shooting thirteen and killing ten.
Including me.
I died that day.
I was three years old.
Mom and Dad took us to the mall.
Only my brother made it home.
Because of another crazy man,
I died that day.
Too many say nothing can be done.
They say our deaths is a price we must pay.
For freedom.
Were we free?
So free we died in vain?