Breonna Taylor, 26, an EMT and aspiring nurse in Louisville, Kentucky, was shot eight times by police after they barged into her home in the middle of the night in March, in what her family is calling a botched drug-warrant execution. No drugs were found.

It keeps happening. It keeps being traumatic. It’s impossible to look away. It’s very easy to shut it all down.

There’s this thing where we have all the information about those horrifying murders online, including footage, but in the real world… Housemates, coworkers, family. I don’t know, no one talks about it. As if those people, Breonna, Ahmaud and more didn’t even exist. As if the news, social media, comments about them didn’t exist. I fucking hate that.

I understand. We do not have the emotional bandwidth to deal with them. But that’s where I force myself. I force myself to look and absorb some of the pain because it’s too easy, far too easy to slide into the dark side of IDGAF. It is my problem. I am concerned as well. My safety is in question.

I’m with them. And they’re not with me anymore.

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