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  • Writer's pictureNemi

Maybe, Just Maybe

It’s after midnight and I find myself sitting here thinking that I probably should‘ve taken the blue pill instead of the red.

What a freakin time to be alive, I mean just when I thought the passing of Kobe Bryant would be the worst part of 2020, the hits jist keep on coming month after month.

I feel as though I have so much to say but at the same time, not too much insight to add to the fire. The realization that the world is finally paying attention to the plight of minorities is perplexing, though the attention provides a sense of optimism that change is possible.

Recently, I informed one of my closet friends that I’m going to pen an letter to my employer which will outline the fact that there’s a ceiling still in place, even after this wave subsides and the next story is media worthy.

What a freaking blur this has been! I have zero reason to rush out into public in order to see or be seen; if we haven’t spoken or texted up to this point of the year, it‘s SAFE to conclude well try again in 2021.

The truth is, I’m sitting here a little tired, a little sad, a little lonely, and a little glad but I’m blessed to be sitting. Maybe, just maybe there’s still a song or two to be had.


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