But that moment he grabbed my hands and I flashed back to that night, it’s like I suddenly really, really realized that Chris is white. Just like One-Fifteen.​​​


I’m thinking, Oh, so you can drag me to play basketball during one of your feminist rages, but you can’t follow my Tumblr because of Emmett Till?​​​​

If it’s revealed that I was in the car, what will that make me? The thug ghetto girl with the drug dealer? What will my teachers think about me? My friends?

I could’ve talked him out of it, I know it, but I abandoned him. F--- the friends’ side. I shouldn’t even be at his funeral.