I am not okay. I am skating on the thin line between hope and hopelessness and as each bullet fails to ricochet and pierces into another black body that line slowly disappears, and so does my sanity. With every foot that seeks to fracture a skull, a piece is taken from my black soul. As each windpipe is pressed on, It is as if I am the one being asphyxiated because every headline is another breath I am unable to take. How do I wake up every day seeking to cause good trouble when it is clear that there is not one race that doesn’t hate me? I, us, we are NOT different. I can only scream Black Lives Matter so many times before it no longer continues to echo. I NEED HELP. God has called me to do a great thing, but I am not Fred, and I can’t be your black messiah. Somedays I wonder If It will all be worth it. Will fighting the good fight bring on a change or will my granddaughter be seeking justice because everything has remained the same? Should I be like everyone else and focus on affording a bunch of depreciating assets or continue to fight a war that I have no idea can be won?

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