It isn’t about me anymore. It’s about us, about feeling at home when home is no longer a tangible thought on call in our scariest dreams. But those dreams aren’t something we close our eyes to experience. They’re alive, an encumbering reality that we all carry on our skin. It’s an inferiority complex we develop while sitting and listening. It’s as omnipotent as our dreams of liberation and self-determination. Do you remember how we got here? How we rudely awakened to find that we’ve been living a lie?