I had to write a memoriam tonight for an 18 year-old.
I cried.
I felt sick.
I got angry.
I told myself, there's nothing you can do, it's a war and you're only one person.
But I knew it wasn't true.
We must stop this war - but you've already heard that time and time again, haven't you?
I'm not the first person to write these words and feel these emotions, and I won't be the last.
The amount of apathy in this state and this country reeks from sea to shining sea. And so our men and women, our brothers and sisters, our sons and daughters remain fighting in an unjust war, dying an honorable death caused by dishonorable leaders.
For a moment, we cluck our tongues, we silently grieve for the maimed, the missing, and the dead, we shake our heads, and yet, for the most part we remain silent.
Is it because we feel so powerless, so helpless? Or is it too far away, a land to which most of us have never been, nor will ever go? Is it because time has inflated our apathy, our willingness to stand silent?
We're not shocked anymore when the evening news begins with the latest death count, and most of us barely notice when we pass a tree with a tattered yellow ribbon.
It's a war, but it's not about WMDs, or oil, or money, or even partisan bullshit.
It's a war on our hearts and our minds and the justice that has been muffled within them.
So while you grieve and get angry and shake your head in frustration, ask yourself one question before you move on with the rest of the day.
How many more memorials must be written for you to finally read between the lines?