Middle-child. That uncle. Prodigal son. Free-spirit. There’s a semi-connected trend I’ve seen among people. Life continues to depend the depth and perspective I have as I stumble through it.

This period of life isn’t exactly one I feel proud for having. That’s honest transparency. Even the blur and haze I’ve raptured myself into now seems tired and boring. That chapter is closing.

I am thankful for the moments where I’ve been able to examine a single thought, idea, or problem for extended periods of time. It’s provided a new level of dimension for what seems like an otherwise-flat storyline.

I’m growing to accept the fact that I do see things differently. For better or for worse.

Perhaps I’ll always be resigned to being the ‘middle child’ or someday the ‘odd uncle’ (though I have a feeling I won’t be the only one in that category…). There’s something to to be said about these types of people.  They give their love so freely. You know it’s pure and genuine because if these people can fuck up so famously – as they tend to do with their plethora of wise life choices they’re constantly recovering from –  you can’t help but wonder how reckless and free their love must be.

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