None of them feel like “me”; they’re all just my ambassador.

A Youtube short depicting a boy getting drilled in the head by a fastball with the title: “Kid gets killed on field by baseball pitch!!!”

Skipping the pleasantries, I went straight to, “Do you guys need something?”

The large Native man squared up to me, huffed, and pulled out a glock, that was at the level of my chest after he bent his elbow upward to point it at me.

But just a second after landing the throw, the whole unit detonates in a blast that shakes the block. The guts of her home expel across the very small lawn and street in front.

Lauren, obvious question. Why smoke weed if you get panic attacks? Because the creative playground afterward is invaluable.

But when someone compliments me on something that I’ve earned or worked for, I know they SEE me and my effort, and are bestowing a genuine acknowledgement.