If I was given away at birth, I would be in two family portraits, instead of one.
If she finds this message, I want her to know I loved her enough, instead of not at all.
If I knew how to listen, I would have loved better.
If you knew, I wonder if things would be different.
If I’d gone to Miami, I would have had my internet love affair IRL.
If I had never split, I would be mirror instead of spark.
If my mom never left my dad, I would’ve grown up watching him beat her throughout my childhood.
If my mom was never diagnosed, I would have never learned to carry her love with me in my heart.
If I had held a different idea of what it meant to be pragmatic, I would be designing clothes for myself for a sizeable clientele somewhere warm, instead of having meandered skittishly and non-committedly through pursuits that I knew weren’t right.
If I never started a small business, I would be totally disillusioned with America.
If I didn’t go to Australia when I was 16, I might have given my virginity to an asshole.
If my dad had not died, I would not be a nomad.
If my parents had loved their home a little less, I wouldn’t now feel trapped in a city slowly being swallowed by the mainland.
If I didn’t drop out of college, I would be dead.
If you didn’t say it was unrealistic, I would have lived unhappily ever after.
If I was born a white man, I would be a self serving asshole.