You couldn’t have written a more sickening tragedy, to imagine a massacre in a place called Pulse that would remove the beat and breath of those for whom bravery was never a choice but the only path toward living. Out. Loud. To come into this home, take what is ours, and know that it would forever alter the pulse and purpose of queer kids much tougher than you. We lost a brother, a sister, a part of ourselves that day. How pathetic to be that desperate. But our pulse is ours; and you tried to take it. We said no.

















