I don't know that I add anything new

Or that offering my voice, again, is remotely helpful. I really don't know. But here's what I do know; I am exhausted with grief and sadness. And if I am exhausted, I cannot begin to know how exhausted my black brothers and sisters are. I can't begin to experience the level of anxiety that affects their daily interactions, the level of strength it must take to sometimes silently endure ill-timed or ignorant remarks from well-meaning but misinformed white people like myself.