I love y’all (or how I feel when I’m at my best)

You’re messed up. I get it. Your parents were quircky and weird. In the first 14 years of your life, you thought they were normal. Then you started understanding that the way they dressed, ate, talked, and thought were goofy. In fact, to be honest, you’re goofy too.

You dress differently than I would if I were you. Your priorities are different than mine. Sometimes you worry about things that I don’t even care about. You keep making big deals about stuff that is trivial.

In fact, sometimes it’s hard to connect with you. Sometimes I just think to myself, “man, (insert your name here), is just crazy. i don’t get them.” Don’t worry, i never say these things out loud (to you).

But the truth is … I love you.

I think you’re awesome. I think you’re cooler than I am. I wish I was half as cool as you. I wish I cared more about the things you care about. Sure, we might be different and sometimes it may become hard for you and I to remember that we do enjoy each other. In fact, it’s hard to remember that we’re both human; that we’re more similar than different.

But we are. We’re cut from the same cloth. We’re made from the same materials. We’re both made in the same image. Actually, it takes a bunch of different kinds of us to represent that image very well. We’re brothers. We’re sisters.

I love you. I care about you. I want you to do well. I want you to live like you were created to live.

And if it bugs me sometimes, that’s my problem. Don’t worry about it.

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