Following the death of George Floyd in May of this year, there was a shift in me artistically. While my heart was full of gratitude for the unity and allies I watched emerge from such a dismal situation, my heart was also heavy as my world as a Black person continued to unravel. I see myself in the faces of those like George Floyd. Yet, as I continued to process my emotions surrounding those events I did not find the same support, compassion, empathy, or understanding from some of the people closest to me. Throughout my life I have found myself in spaces where I am in the minority, often having to sift through microaggressive and insensitive comments. This piece was bred from my own experiences, a commentary. With the current times and our lives at a standstill, solitude has become part of my routine, and I have found myself sorting through the past, processing years of internalized pain and hurt, recognizing I have been shouldering the weight of others’ apathy for years. This is an exploration of my identity as a Black person confronting the ways in which the past and present impacted and continue to impact my existence.