“What no one has told you kids, is that snowflakes melt.” The sentence hangs heavy in the classroom. It’s not an uncommon phrase. It’s one I don’t even disagree with, not at its core. My teacher’s disdain for our generation, the narcissism, the entitlement, the unshakable love for a corrupt government that will never love us back. I wonder where she found these qualities in a shaky, stuttering classroom.

When she spits brimstone and fire about trigger warnings, however, I feel the blood come rushing from my fingertips, swelling inexplicably across the thin membrane of my brain. It’s all censorship and cowardice. How these things exist to shield us from the pain of the world. How we need to get used to the horror, the horror. The fighter in me cries out,”The strongest people in this room have the longest list of trigger words!” The real me chews her lower lip, thinks back to her own list.

I shouldn't have to explain my own personal triggers, however. We all have memories that belong in the past, certain phrases or statements happen to drag them out. We don't bring up Rachel's abusive ex because, well, that's not exactly a polite thing to do. We don't ask Steve about the time he overdosed over brunch because that's not the time or the place. So why do you expect us to integrate rape or incest or graphic racial violence into everyday lives through novels without so much as a "heads up!"? It isn't a matter of being able to handle this information; teenagers are vaguely, if not more so, aware of the world they are surrounded in than most adults.

My teacher doesn’t give us the option to explain ourselves through these lectures. Loss and grief and pain are all emotions we are all willing to go through. Personally, a trigger warning is merely that, a warning. It’s a prelude to something we millennials aren’t strangers to. Sensitive topics deserve to be talked about, yes, but you wouldn’t shove a potentially toxic beaker under an un-consenting nose. Speaking out to an entire class room of young adults, one where you have preached about never truly knowing another human being's experiences through existential crisis enducing novels, blanket statements don't belong.

I feel guilty I never said anything aloud. I let my own beliefs be spoken against, as if I were in agreement. I hope this letter makes up for it, adds to the cacophony of sound about it all. Trigger warnings aren’t the product of sensitive children. Trigger warning equates the safety on a gun. Without them, you just might hurt someone.