Days like this are always the most unexpected. It was October 24th, 2022, the day that would change my life forever. This day felt like a normal day, I woke up, did my morning routine, got dressed and went to school. So blind, naive to the world and what the people in it are capable of.   

I arrive to school, “ next, open your bag and pass through.”, said the morning security officer. *beep beep, beep beep*, “empty your pockets” said the security officer as the metal detectors beep when I walked through   , “its my phone”, “ ok you’re good to go”. Only if I would’ve took the beeping as a sign to turn around and go home I wouldn’t be facing such a trauma that may never leave, maybe I wouldn’t have witnessed what I witnessed. I make it to my first period class and sit. I text my friend,”are you coming to school today?”, “yea, coming down now”. Three seconds later I see my friend come through the door. We talk about the basics that usually consist of planning things to do and hows life been treating us. We talk and talk until I feel the sudden urge to go to the bathroom, “wait” my friend said, little did I know, that simple, four letter word just saved my life. 

All I can fathom to think about is the what if’s, what if I would’ve ignored my friend? what if I had kept walking? what if my friends mind simply went blank? What if I didn’t hear him? What if…? I sat back down to listen to what my friend had to say, then 10 seconds later we hear a strange boom, thud and scream echo through the halls. “what was that?” my classmates said collectively. *buzz*, it was the intercom that I didn’t know at the time, would be the sound that traumatizes me forever. “ attention all staff and students, no students should be in the halls at this time, teachers lock your doors, this is not a drill, MR. WYMAN IS IN THE BUILDING.” Mr. Wyman is code for intruder, so my classmates and I instantly jump to an defense as if we were the military going to war. Its honestly quite sad that we are trained this way in American schools, kids who have to go to school with the mindset of surviving the school day, not knowing if the drop off line will be the last time they see their parents, a place that is suppose too be a safe spot to a place of war and grief. I instantly text my mother “ call 911.” “there’s an intruder, were under lockdown.“ 

I put my phone in my pocket* me and my friend exchange looks of fright and despair. All I can remember is the intense feeling of “kill or be killed” mindset that came over me. My school was the prey and the gunman was the predator so I was ready to attack if it came down to it. I continued to text my mom as she zips through traffic to get to me, while doing so I hear a squad of police cars and sirens pull up. “get down, drop your weapon!” in that moment I knew this situation was more than serious. As me and my classmates are huddled in the corner, we hear the sound of light weight shoes run towards the down stairs with the following of heavy work boots, “the shooter is coming back down here” I thought to my self. “shake ,shake, shake” the handle of our door was shaken by the shooter, but he couldn’t get in. We hear the light weighted shoes run off. The heavy work boots came closer to the door.” this is the police! I want you to run out with your hands up!”. 

We all line up by the door. I countdown the seconds it took to open the door, 3….2….1. when I got to one I took off through the door as if I was running  for a gold metal but instead,  I was running for my life. As I run down the hall I see the swat teams with long guns, something that I thought I’d never see up close. And then I see her…On the floor at the end of the hall. I slow down in shock,seeing the blood puzzled me. I continue out of the bottom door, then realize what happened, as if I just came from a blackout. Then I start hyperventilating. Im in a panic attack, so I call my mother to calm me down and see where she was. Breath 1…2…3.”all the streets surrounding your school are blocked off, im at the Schnucks parking lot.” “ here I come.” as I look around I see the sadness in the eyes of all my peers and see the complete heartbreak in others. 

We are all now in a Schnucks parking lot waiting for our parents but then the police decided to try to make kids stay and tell them any details that has happened, and all I could remember was how mad I was when they asked that, all I could remember thinking was why they ask so soon ! After consoling others not even worrying about myself, I see my mother dashing through the parking lot coming to my rescue. When I seen her I told my friend and started running to her car . I ran to my mother and wanted so badly to jump in her arms, this is the happiest I’ve ever been to see my mother and I mean EVER. It’s crazy how a normal day  can turn into a very traumatic one within the span of 30 minutes. Me and my mother then go to drop off my friend and pick up my sister. Shortly after we retrieve my sister from her school, we head home. When we arrive home, I felt a sharp pain shoot across my chest… it was guilt. ‘Guilty for what?’ guilty for being the one able to go back home, guilty to be the one to be held in my momma’s arms, guilty of being alive, the guilt of survival. Sometimes even still as I sit here typing this line, I wonder why me, why was I picked, what makes me special? I’m very grateful to be safe but why couldn’t everyone still be safe?, why can’t everyone be home with their families? , why did we have to lose anyone? Why? 

People always talk about how much of a drug and disease love is but no one ever seems to talk about how much of a blessing and a curse it is to think especially when your like me and overthink so much to the point you find yourself drifting away, stuck in an endless void of thoughts, and it hurts even more when the problem is out of your control. 

Survivors guilt isn’t only the guilt of making it out of an situation that others didn’t, its also the guilt of knowing that you have the opportunity to move on and the guilt of knowing one day the feeling will fade and the person will soon become a distant memory that will be buried in the depths of your mind naturally because of your own selfishness of not wanting to relive those moments , but is it really selfish to not want to relive those moments? Am I wrong for putting my feelings before someone el-, there I go again, overthinking, clouding my brain, throwing a bunch of words together in hopes of It making sense, in hopes of my feelings to be felt through the passage and expressed to the audience to really understand how I feel but honestly, wouldn’t that in itself be selfish?  Some of you may be thinking,”Why would he want to share his dark thoughts with others? Why would he want his audience to feel that?” 

Well how else would you understand the great deal of guilt and relief I feel? How else would you be able to understand how one can feel both of those feelings at the same time? But my main purpose is for one to truly understand how something so complex can happen and end so fast. How something that started so fast can en-.