We are so much our parents. They expand beyond our skin, and hair color. They are the tongues that form our words. They are the eyes that see our world. They are the sulci and gyri that interpret thoughts and make decisions. Our parents are in our beds because they are in our heads. Rooted insecurities and desires grow from the seeds planted by our parents long ago. 

We are more of our parents than we will ever admit. Not wanting to make their mistakes, we disown their flaws and claim the traits that mimic their successes–though all of these are only perceived from the viewpoint that was shaped by your parents. Our silence is their silence. Our judgement is their judgement. Our happiness is theirs. And they are their parents, too.

All in some way. 








All in some way, many ways, we are so like our parents.


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