If I meet you at a party and the topic comes up,

nine times out of ten, I will tell you that I am an only child because I just don’t feel that

I had a brother–well, half-brother technically…yeah, different moms. He grew up with my dad on the East Coast. I used to see him in the summers when I would go out there but he was seven years older so he kinda had his own thing going on. Oh and then he went to jail a bit so there was that too. His girlfriend Nia was really smart and she helped me with my AP English summer work when I was 16. Anyway, he died when I was 17 so…

is appropriate.

But it always makes me feel weird.

Like I’m mixed but only claiming one ethnicity because it’s the one I most look like. (“Yeah, I’m mostly only child but I got some part siblinged on my dad’s side. You could really see it in me in pictures when I was a kid.”)

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About J.

A former twentysomething with a head full of curls and heart full of questions wondering: when we get to nirvana, will there be food?
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