February 14th, 2018. I went to the office to pick up flowers that my dad had left for me. I strolled out of the office and headed up to my car, beaming, feeling completely safe, because why wouldn’t I. I drove the 15 minute drive home and walked into my living room. The TV blaring and my mom bent over the couch, vividly distraught. The television showed hundreds of children running, arms raised as if they were criminals, for their lives. This is Valentine’s Day. A day made to show the love you feel for others. History has been rewritten, torn apart and sewn back together to represent the epitome of destruction and loss. On February 14th, 2018 the lives of thousands of people were changed while 17 were lost forever.  Half of Americans have and will continue this year, forgetting that just 365 days ago, a young man shot and killed innocent kids on a day that is supposed to mean love. I live in Arkansas, I am not directly related to this event. I did not go to school there, I did not know all of the fallen, I was not there. This means nothing. So what if I didn’t directly see it, I still want, and believe, that I can make a change. In our society we have become so attached to the idea that in order to relate or feel emotions that we must have a direct connection. We cannot just feel the pain because our generation is desensitized to these events. As Emma Gonzalez would say “I call BS." I too call BS on the fact that adults, congressmen, even parents think that either because I am too young or too naive that I cannot force our government, our schools, our towns to make a change.