When the protests broke out in Los Angeles on May 29th, I was sitting on my couch, cuddled next to my boyfriend in our brand new apartment in the heart of Downtown. We moved in just one week earlier with dreams of how this big step together would lead to marriage, family, and beyond. Cloud nine, as it were.
We heard the chaos before we saw it. The loud roar of helicopters circled above, the explosions of fireworks boomed below, and the crashing of windows shattered all around us. It was truly terrifying. The pain, fear, and anger that I held in my heart after the loss of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery and countless others, was now personified outside my window in the form of fire, glass, rubber bullets and tear gas.