I was in an art class when the school went on lock down. My classmates and I were making jokes about it until I saw that I had a voicemail from my dad asking if I was okay. A couple other students got texts asking if they were alright, but the phone towers were so saturated no one was able to dial out. We checked the University web page, and it said there was a shooter on campus and 30 people were injured or dead. As I walked home from class that day the campus was eerily quiet. I walked and prayed with the silence. I felt sad, but also guilty; I wasn’t as torn up or effected as others. In some ways, I didn’t know if I could feel anything at all. I was numb. Painting allowed me to release emotions I didn’t even know I had. Sometimes when you ‘create’ you don’t know why; you just do.