My Life Matters

So many thoughts as I lye awake in this bed.

In my 37 years of living, there were plenty times I feared for my life.

Scared, that I would even be the culprit.

Remembering when I felt like I just didn’t fit in and my life had no meaning; look at me now. I’m so thankful I didn’t forfeit.

I would’ve missed out on something so beautiful.

I’m able to watch my nieces, nephew, cousins, friends, but more importantly myself grow.

Unfortunately, I can’t say that for most.

There were times when I could’ve been raped, killed in a car crash, shot in the face because I defended my girl against a fool with a gun that touched her ass.

None of those fears compared to the fear I felt when I found myself alone on a bike trail, far from home with nothing but white ppl passing me sparingly, during a modern day race war.

Living in the wake of Ahmaud Arbery’s murder, I was scared...truly feared for my life, while I was just riding my bike.

I was not in what should have been considered a dangerous situation. I’m in a public place, on a bike trail, yet I was afraid.

Afraid that anyone of these random ppl on this trail would see me and because of the color of my skin or gender feel like I didn’t belong there and take it upon themselves to dispose of me.

Who would know?