Bump.

You’re just a small bump. You’re growing every day while you wait to meet the world. I haven’t met you yet, but I love you more than you will ever be able comprehend.

You cause me stress.

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Trophies.

I talk about my faults like they’re awards I got in high school because sometimes I feel like I have nothing else interesting to say.

I have a need for people’s attention and my frequent pity parties are how I get it.

I have these scars on my body that are like trophies of all the battles I’ve won. I think showing these to people will make them like me – or at least pity me enough to pretend to like me.

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Fire.

I referred to you as the Fire because it’s a fitting description with someone as combustible as you and let’s face it – I’m water and we clash. We clash like swords but the thing about swords clashing is that iron sharpens iron and practice makes perfect, so little brother every time you swing I get to watch you grow. Taking a couple blows along the way is worth it to see you thrive, and sometimes I have to knock your weapon out of your hand, leave you defenseless, and then pick you back up just to remind you what real life feels like. Remember that no matter how deep we may cut each other, I will always be there to pick you up and be by your side.

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Not Alone.

October 16, 2018

The lights in Bridgestone Arena were low and you could feel the anticipation among the thousands of excited fans. My mind went back to a little over a year ago when I saw my favorite band live for the first time. This time I had better seats, somewhat knew what to expect, and had three people that I love more than life itself sitting next to me. I felt as if nothing could top that night from over a year ago. I was wrong. Read More

30 Seconds.

Something in my life that I have always put near the top of my priority list is connecting with people. I love meeting new people, hearing their stories, and building a genuine relationship with them. I get my social prowess from my dad. My dad has never known a stranger. He and I disagree on things often, but this is definitely one of those cheesy things about my dad that growing up I witnessed and said, “Wow! I want to be just like that when I’m big.” 

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Pierced.

I have been going to church for literally longer than I can remember. I have sat in the pews of a Pentecostal sanctuary feeling under-dressed when wearing a tie and I have went to church where the vast majority of the attendees are wearing basketball shorts or sweatpants. I’ve listened to sermons condemning teenage boys wearing skinny jeans and having spikey haircuts and I’ve been a member of a church that calls jeans their “church clothes.” The conversation of “church appropriate” has always been a topic of discussion surrounding my life and I want to talk about it.

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