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.