Time won't give me time

September 19th, 2025

There’s a knock that lives in my bones.

It ain’t loud.
Not at first.
Just a soft lil rhythm in the ribcage.
Like memory tryna stretch its legs in the morning.
Like grief that ain’t got nowhere left to sleep.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about what it really means to be Black in America.

I ain’t talkin’ about politics or entertainment.

I’m talkin’ about this invisible weight we carry.
The one you can’t name. but feel.
The one that don’t show up on scales,
But makes everything feel heavier anyway.

I saw this quote might’ve been written by a ghost.

Black is hard to do and be. It is African with none of the history and American with none of the privilege.

Yeah, let that one sit with you for a min.

That ain’t a sentence. That’s an exhale.
That’s a funeral program that ain’t printed yet.
That’s the weight of being between.

Too African to feel American.
Too American to ever fully be African.
But still expected to smile through it like we ain’t cracked in the middle.

We are ghosts in our own lineage.
Haunted by what we lost and by what refuses to see us.

Sometimes I wonder what our ancestors would think when they look at us now.

Do they see freedom?
Or just a different kind of captivity?
One that wears Jordans and designer grief.
One that smiles in selfies but still whispers I’m tired when nobody’s around.

I been thinking bout Chadwick.

How he walked through the world with grace.
How he held his pain like a secret.
Not for shame.
But because he ain’t want his suffering to define him.

He told us

Take advantage of every moment we can to enjoy the simplicity of God’s creation.

And he meant that.

Not in some Instagrammable, soft focus kind of way.
But in the I’m dying and still living kind of way.
In the I might not be here tomorrow, but today gon feel holy kind of way.

Because if I’m keeping it real?
There is no tomorrow.
All we got is right now.
This breath.
This blink.
This beat knockin in our chest.

That’s the miracle.

Not some promised land.
Not some perfect day comin’ when the pain finally lets go.

The miracle is today.
The miracle is that we still here.

And if that ain't holy?
Then I don’t know what is.

There’s another quote that's been knockin at my skull lately.
It’s from T’Challa.

Two people in a room can get more done than a hundred.

That hit different now.

because I don’t want crowds.
I want real ones.
I want those midnight convos where the pain ain’t gotta be translated.
Where I ain’t gotta shrink myself to be held.
Where my scars ain’t a liability. They’re a damn map.

Ryan Coogler said reading his first bad review made him grow up.

He said it was necessary.

And I felt that.

This ain’t about perfection.
This is about becoming.

Becoming something your people can’t help but remember.
Even if you never get a monument.

But I know the truth.

You're a crown made from everything we lost.
And everything we refuse to give up.