I remember the exact moment my mom told me about the shootings in the movie theatre in Aurora; she had just picked me up from three weeks at a summer camp where we didn’t have access to cell service or the internet. She had turned on the radio and had landed on the NPR station while they were listing the victims. She turned it off and explained to me what had happened. Even though I had just come off some of the best weeks in my life and was up to the brim with stories to tell, the car ride home was unusually quiet.

The Aurora shooting was the first gun-violence event that had ever really shaken me. It was the first mass shooting in a period of my life where I was beginning to be in tune with what was happening in the world around me. I remember being terrified for months anytime I walked into a movie theatre, always looking at the nearest exit and jumping anytime I heard a noise behind me.

And then there was Sandy Hook.

The fallout from Sandy Hook was massive; for months, everything on the radio and television was about the perpetrator’s mental health and access to guns. It was the first school shooting that I had experienced in real time, every other shooting had been a story that had been told to me from years before.

School had always been a safe place for me; at home, I would worry about someone breaking in while I was watching my siblings, always double checking the locked door. But I never felt unsafe at school, I mean, how could anything happen if I was surrounded by so many other adults? Right? This event proved otherwise.

And then there was the Clackamas Town Center shooting.

This shooting is unknown to many but occurred only 10 miles from my own home in Portland, OR. One of Portland’s biggest radio stations, K 103.3, plays Christmas music through the entire month of December. After a day at school, I remember turning on the radio to listen to some Christmas music while I got started on some homework.

But not long after I had sat down, the music was abruptly interrupted to the voice of a shaken radio personality, announcing that there had been a shooting at Clackamas Town Center. After running down to tell my mom, I spent hours next to the radio, listening to the events unfold, and learning about how a 22-year-old had claimed the lives of two people with an AR-15.

That April, I was hesitant to return to that same shopping mall with my Grandma for our annual shopping spree to celebrate my birthday, but my mom had assured me that it was going to be fine; when my grandma and I were browsing the shelves at Claire’s and heard a pop, we both stopped and she motioned for me to get close to her. We were relieved to find out that it was just a tire on a stroller popping, but I will never forget the fear I saw in my grandma’s eyes, a woman who I saw as indestructible.

And then there was Reynold’s High School, in Troutdale, OR, only a dozen or so miles from Portland. 1 dead 1 injured.

And then Charleston, South Carolina, when a white supremacist opened fire at a historically black church. 9 dead 1 injured.

And Umpqua Community College, where a student attacked a university classroom. 9 dead 8 injured.

And San Bernardino, when a couple opened fire at an office Christmas party. 14 dead 24 injured.

And Orlando. 49 dead 58 injured.

And Las Vegas. 58 dead 422 injured.

And the list goes on. And on. And on.

And now Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida. 17 dead and 15 injured.

And you know it’s happening too often when a news reporter can’t even catch their breath to start reporting on the next shooting.

You know it’s bad when I’ve become less and less shaken with each mass murder in this country.

You know it’s bad when the coverage of each shooting is becoming shorter and shorter and shorter. When Sandy Hook happened, it was on the television for months; now, not even a week after Parkland, the reporters are moving their attention to the 13 indicted Russians.

You know it’s bad that there are so many fatal school shootings that have occurred in the last six months that I hadn’t heard of until doing research for this piece, like Freeman High School on September 13th, Rancho Tehama Elementary School on November 14th, and Aztec High School on December 7th.

Now I could distance myself from movie theatres and malls, knowing that the chances of my me and my family happening to all be visiting these places when something horrific happened were very low. But a high school, that’s different.

Come next fall, literally half of my family— my brother, sister, and father— will be in a high school for 8 hours every day. So instead of Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School, what if that had been Cleveland High School, in Portland, OR? What if instead of Alyssa Alhadeff, it was Flannery Gonzales, both 14-year-old’s who love soccer?

Or instead of Joaquin Oliver, it was Holden Gonzales, both 16-year-old’s who love rap music? Or instead of Scott Beigel, a geography teacher who ushered students into his classroom as the shooting started, it was Patrick Gonzales, a high school English teacher?

It feels natural to distance yourself from these situations, thinking that it’ll never happen to anyone you know. But what I encourage you to do is not to live in fear that it will happen to you, but react knowing that the victims have friends and family just like you. Fight for the family and friends of victims who can’t.

In his reaction to the latest school shooting, President Trump said that “no child, no teacher, should ever be in danger in an American school,” and I agree. But I also shouldn’t have to feel unsafe going to movie theatres, malls, and my university’s campus.

Well President Trump, you know a way to make sure that I don’t even have to feel unsafe, whether its at my university, on the streets, or in my own home? Eliminate the variable that is making each of these uniquely horrible and unjust events chillingly similar: guns. You want to prevent these shootings from happening on an disturbingly regular basis? Then stop talking about mental health and start talking about gun control.

Many gun-owners say “guns don’t kill people, people kill people.” Do you really, truly, honestly believe that if that same 19 year old kid had walked into Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School on that same day unarmed, he could have killed 17 people? Spoiler alert, the answer is no.

This is the point where I offer a solution of some sort. A call to action that will change our society's views on guns, but I have to admit that I don’t have much to offer. Maybe in a time where I’m feeling less helpless, I’ll offer a way to get out of this mess; but with our current government and the way this republic works, I’m out of ideas.