The result roars in my head. It doesn’t come in waves- it’s constant static.
A constant reminder- a constant fear.
I cried the most I ever have in my life that night.
Tears dripped, dropped into a pool of millions united across the country in shock
-turning to hugs and then to sorrow.

They say there are five stages of grief- denial, anger, bargaining, depression,
And then acceptance.
But I think that this is a different kind of mourning- because I don’t know about you, but I sure as hell will never be ready for acceptance.
I have spent long days and nights and 2 am thoughts mourning those who fought the good fight for so long and are going to see all of their hard work undone.
I have mourned those who have lost their fire along the way, turning to that one final word- acceptance

After the initial numbness faded, fiery pain burned and that anger dug a hole deep inside of me.
I’m working to fill it with hope.
Because now I’m done mourning. I’m done being angry.
I crave the first glimmer of that light at the end of the tunnel.
I’m ready to rise above the static and have the voice of hope be heard- I’m ready for the future and I’m prepared to fight for it- for my future and the future of America.
Because we need a land of the free and a land of the brave- not a land of cowardice.
That’s what prejudice is- it is cowardice.
I need a brave new world- yearn for it.
But I can’t do it while sticking to the five f***ing stages of grief.
There’s a light at the end of this tunnel, and if I can’t find it I’ll strike the match myself.
I’ll chase down that bright future on foot.
Stride over stride, I will never stop.