One super funny thing about growing up is figuring out which of your behaviors are your own, and which ones came from your family and your surroundings.

My mom always calls me mean for my sarcasm and quick wit, but our humor and mannerisms align far too often for that to be anything other than genetic. When everyone around you is a verbal shark, you either bite back or get torn to shreds!

It’s a hit or miss with the dancing gene, because my brother’s rhythm is seasonal, and my sister marches to the beat of her own drum. 

The love of cartoons is something I’m almost entirely alone in, and sometimes it amazes me that I’m not an alien they beamed down from a foreign planet nearly eighteen years ago. 

My love for presenting and performing runs through my blood, and manifests itself in storytelling and performance arts, while my brother’s lies in public speaking and sports, and my sister a combination of them all.  Even our differences are intertwined in a way, and that’s comforting. I’m not entirely alone.

My laugh is all my own, but my weird toe defect is not; my eyes belong to four others, but I’m the only one who dreams of performing in Dayton, Ohio (Winter Guard International World Championships). 

I’m a product of where I grew up and who raised me, but I’m also the only person who has ever been me, and it’ll be like that forever.