I’ll write about me, since I know about that best.

I’m probably one of the most non-curious people you will ever meet- not for things that pull me like South on North, but for those that I could die happy without learning about. Call that what you like.

My fear is on a teeter-totter. If someone tried to spook me, I won’t bat an eye. But let an ounce of danger come anywhere near someone I care about, and my heart wins the marathon.

I’m passively observant for the most part, but will refuse to what for what’s right.

I battle with my mind on cutting my Medusa’s head of an ego.

Some days I wake up embracing all the hurt I’ve experienced with the best kind of grace I can grow, other days I poke at it like a stick in gravel with a child’s curiosity, and then there’s days where I refuse to cut an onion even though what will shed are not tears of pain.

Most of all, I try to reflect on everything I do and build myself with, from, away, or towards it. Because I owe that to myself.