This is happening today.
Another person was shot and killed by ICE today, and I am standing in my kitchen trying to process it while my morning looks exactly like it always does. Eggs on the stove. Apple juice in a glass. The normalcy of it feels wrong. The contrast is jarring. Watching the news unfold in real time feels unreal, like I am observing something distant, like a movie or a bad dream, even though I know that is not true.
This is real. It is happening here. Right now. In our country.
I feel tired in a way that sleep does not fix. I feel angry, but not in a loud way. It is a heavy anger, a sad anger, the kind that comes from knowing this keeps happening and knowing tomorrow we will still be expected to function as if it did not. It feels like grief that never gets space to breathe before the next tragedy arrives.
Today I feel the weight of it all at once. The fear. The sadness. The disbelief that this is where we are. There are moments when it feels overwhelming, when hope feels distant and fragile. But even today, especially today, I know I am not hopeless. I do not want to give up. I refuse to let this become something I accept or move past without resistance.
What keeps me going is the decision to keep caring, even when it hurts. To keep naming what is happening. To keep saying that this is wrong. That these are human beings. That this violence is not normal and should never be treated as such.
We have to keep going. We have to keep fighting. We have to keep speaking, showing up, and refusing to be silent. Our strength is not just in numbers. It is in empathy. In morality. In choosing humanity even when the world feels cruel and broken.
Today I am angry. Today I am sad. Today I am exhausted. But I am still here. And today, I am choosing to keep fighting.