Broken Identity

I grew up never liking my name. It wasn’t that my name was anything unusual or difficult to pronounce. I was just never fond of it. I remember sitting in school as my teachers would “call roll” imagining that my name would have been one of my fellow classmates. When you have a three syllable…

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A Voice Stolen

Dear Younger Self, I’m sitting in my living room with a deeply affectionate boy in my arms and another sweet boy growing safe inside my body. I can’t help but be curious about who you were so long ago. Were you anything like this stubborn, imaginative two-year old who is now leaping off the couch…

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