When I think about gun violence, I visualize crazy movie scenes. Action movies. Ghetto stories. But in an instant, reality hits, and I realize guns are not just some sensational act in cinema. It’s real.
I’ve gone to a gun store and got my permit, even checked out a few. They were all cold and heavy in my hand.
The man behind the counter asks, “How does it feel?” I don’t have an answer. It feels like a multi-dimensional question. I’m not equipped to reply.
“I don’t know. How’s it supposed to feel?”
Oddly, he doesn’t have an answer, either.
He finally says I’ll somehow “know by which one feels more comfortable.”
I still haven’t purchased a gun. Some days I hate them. Some days I want one. Most days I wish they never existed.
I’ve recently wanted a gun more and more. I don’t like how that makes me feel.