Came across this incredibly moving, beautifully written essay: How to Slowly Kill Yourself and Others in America: A Remembrance by Kiese Laymon
I’ve had guns pulled on me by four people under Central Mississippi skies — once by a white undercover cop, once by a young brother trying to rob me for the leftovers of a weak work-study check, once by my mother and twice by myself. Not sure how or if I’ve helped many folks say yes to life but I’ve definitely aided in few folks dying slowly in America, all without the aid of a gun.
Read the rest here.
A few of my thoughts while reading this essay:
1. I want to be a better writer.
2. I hate being like his mother.
3. I hate loving those with this level of awareness (and those who without it…)