In every Black person there is the potential to be a very cancerous cloud welling up in there chest.
I feel it in my chest to. Sometimes it climbs up my throat and into the back of my mind, and grips my brain. It forces me to doubt myself; to look at my current failures and equate them to my very identity, an identity I did not have control over in the first place. It meddles with my judgment, consequentially lowering my performance in almost anything I do. It operates like a cloud that’s been hovering over my head since birth but its vice is rooted within my psyche like a virus.