2016 In Review

I’d been walking around in a literal haze, but deep down I thought buying contacts might be the faint victory I’d been seeking.

Practicing self-care by telling white people about themselves, calling in Black to life, delighting in Black art? That was Black as shit.

When you’re depressed, you learn all of the angles inside a half-empty apartment. You become a student of the ceiling.

How do you decide when to call somewhere home, and which one takes precedence if more than one place fits the bill?
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