I'll always remember the lesson one of my favorite professors in undergrad told my class, unfortunately all too often.

He had sworn earlier in his career, he told us, to always address mass shootings with his classes when they happened so that we would realize that they aren't normal. That this isn't the way things have always been, nor is it how they have to continue to be.

He stayed true to his pledge, and sadly he had to give that speech more than once that year. Students in his classes this year have likely heard those same words as much as any in the past.

Though there is not a universal definition for what constitutes a mass shooting, by some estimates there have already been two in America this year. There were at least eight last year, including the deadliest mass shooting in American history, the Las Vegas tragedy.

For my generation, the millennials, this has become like the new normal. I was born almost four years before the Columbine shooting in 1999. I had a friend whose parents worked at Virginia Tech in 2007 when 33 students were killed by a shooter. I was in high school when 12 were killed at the Aurora movie theater, and again when 28 were killed at Sandy Hook Elementary in 2012.

About twenty years ago, the question was whether or not a tragedy like Columbine would ever happen again. Now, we only seem to wonder when and where it will happen next. It is true that these shootings still account for usually less than 100 deaths a year and only a speck of gun violence in America, but they cause panic because they show us that at almost any time, in our safest places, we might be vulnerable.

The twenty-first century is rapidly devolving into a time when people cannot feel completely safe at a school, a concert, in a movie theater, a political rally, or even a church group. People are dying in places where they never before had to worry about safety.

That's why it's shameful that we're too prideful and scared to actually have a conversation about it.

All too often, many of us fall into one of two categories after a tragedy – the people who share their opinion and have no doubt that it is wholly correct, and the people who remain silent in hopes of avoiding controversy.

Both roles make sense to me. The former are passionate and want to help fix things the best way they know how, and the latter are afraid that such efforts will just create a bigger wedge in society or with their friends.

The problem with this cycle, however, is that it just produces arguments until everyone forgets about the issue – that is, until the next tragedy. We ultimately throw up our hands and decide nothing could be done. For me, that's not good enough anymore.

Like my professor once said, this is not normal. There has to be an answer. Most of the rest of the world doesn't have this problem, especially not with the regularity we do. We didn't have this problem in earnest until the past 20 years.

What we need is a discussion across the nation and even with the world in which we are willing to look at all possible solutions. When we talk on social media about these situations, we can't let our pride get in the way of our passion for healing. Maybe your solution is the right solution, or maybe it isn't, but we ought to look at all viable options, be they gun control, mental health care in America, heightened security, or other issues. And we need to be prepared to listen and simply seek truth, seek the best possible outcome.

It will be an uncomfortable conversation, but to be blunt, our comfort hasn't saved any lives. Discomfort is a price I'm willing to pay if it saves lives, and I'd like to believe that America will soon feel the same.