I have gone on long rants. Stood strong in heated arguments. I have stood up for black men and black women, and those of a different hue.

I have posted hashtag after hashtag, the names change, the storyline doesn't.

I have cried, and been frustrated. Wondered about my sweet baby boy, and husband. Father and Brother.

I am tired of explaining, and intellectualizing. It is not my job to get you to see me, us, as HUMAN.  Humanity is basic, it's the least you can do. So I won't anymore. I am not coddling anyone's willful ignorance. Not when we have access to the same books, the same Google.

I do not have to prove that I am worthy, that my family deserves to live. I don't owe you anything. I don't have to first demand that inner-city violence stop before lives are valued everywhere.

I don't owe you anything. 

Just stop shooting us.

 I haven't taken much time to process my feelings about the Pulse attack in Orlando on June 12th.

News has a way of forcing you to move on, until it's convenient to bring up again. It never stops, it pummels through, repeating ad nauseum...and then provides no relief.

But, here I am at four in the morning, back at this place for work. Every time I visit, which is often, emotions hit me. Sometimes they are strong, sometimes it's just a quick moment of sadness. This morning was different. No real reason why. I stepped outside of my live truck, and I felt like I could feel the spirits of the 49 people who died inside that nightclub. It almost seems abstract, unreal, maybe we'll wake up from it all. We won't.

The area was more bare this morning. The fence you see in the back used to be filled with pictures, letters, flowers, stuffed animals from people who came to mourn from across the world. The History Center removed most of those items in preparation for a new fence to be placed further away from the road. The new fence will  have colorful pictures from local artists. It's meant to be happier, remind people of the good times.

Happiness left that horrible night.

Communities are never the same when evil visits them like this. I am not the same after having covered it. I will never understand. I cannot imagine the nightmares survivors must deal with. I cannot imagine the pain.

But the world doesn't stop.

The new fence is a reminder of that, we must move forward. Even while it hurts. Cover it with something more pleasant for now.