When your mother is White, and your Father is Black, and you're raised by your mother in Santa Monica during the 80's and graduate from HS in 1990, you lived your life pretty "invisible". Invisible in the sense of, sometimes shit isn't good nor bad, just IS. Life becomes this wave you get good at riding. People see how well you ride the tall waves, but for you it's just protocol.

Your parents taught you to FTW while embrassing it, so.... Penthouse is just part of the decor h: I know it sucks to SEE it, but hey... we all have hang-ups, but you're less likely to have ones on that tip.