Anger burns inside me. Fueling my everyday movements, the firey-pit of emotions is the only thing keeping me from shutting down completely. This should not be happening. People. We are all people. We are all living in the same world, breathing the same air. Sorries could never be enough. One word cannot make up for the lives lost. I should not be affected as much as I am right now. It was not me, I am not the one that got hurt. I care because they were my people.

No matter if I knew them or not, Judaism is the thing that connects us, but it is also the thing that tears us apart. The whispers in the hallway make it more real. As people pass me by, I hear them saying “I’m glad it wasn’t me” or “Thank god none of my family was involved.” But they couldn’t be more wrong. It wasn’t them, it was us. This terrible thing makes us come together. It makes me hold my family tighter. Cry a little harder. But even as I cry I think, “Thank god it wasn’t me.”