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Breaking Point
How close are we?
You know those annoying buggers that pop up to screw up our vision, called “floaters?”
My eyes are filled with them right now. I keep blinking but they won’t go away. Instead, they seem to be multiplying, like they’re deliberately fucking with me. They make my head hurt.
I have floaters in my brain, too but these have more substance. They’re completely unlike the wispy filaments that dance through my vision.
Black men dying. Buildings burning. Cities crumbling. Politicians lying. Mothers crying out for their lost children. Those are the floaters in my brain. And, much like the ones messing with my vision, these are clouding my thinking.
Any sense of “normalcy” I once felt is now completely gone. If the pandemic hadn’t already completely eradicated what stands for “real life” than this latest atrocity, the taking of a black man’s life by white cops, has nearly sent me around the bend.
How about you? Are your feet still firmly rooted to the ground or are you spiraling off into Never Never Land?
The murder of George Floyd by men who were charged with “serving and protecting” ignored his continued pleas for mercy and instead, let him die in the street, his cheek pressed into the concrete.
