I have three parents: my biological, of whom I love dearly and miss.
my adoptive parents, knowing full well being a nineteen year old with no experience of life and sometimes when a sobbing phone call is warranted, they will answer with ease.
My ___ parents, the parents of who the adoptive ones could never be: they take care of me twenty-four seven because we virtually live together.
Originally my ___ parents were meant to be a joke. Mostly because at the time I was one of the youngest ___ in ___ and a lot more naive than the others. My parents were heartbroken that I had to wander so much, lost and alone and needed some comfort in the words:
“Dad. Mom. Somebody’s taking care of me, don’t worry and I love you.”
I sat down with the ___ parents yesterday commenting on the role I had in life. It was one of my more serious moments.
“I don’t know what it is, being comfortable, being this, being that. But I’m happy with who I was, who I am, and who I’m becoming. I’m excited for further changes.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I called my parents this morning and had a beautiful discussion. They said I have gotten cockier. And normally that’s an insult. It’s a compliment for me.”
“Well, when you’re meek and insecure it shows; when you’re cocky and you know it, you know it. It’s not necessarily being just cocky. It’s being comfortable in the shoes you’re in. But there’s also arrogance.”
“Well, cocky is the idea that you’re confident about something and so confident that people know. And arrogance is the knowledge of something hidden behind a facade of somewhat insecurity. To be that arrogant is to be scared.”
“Scared of what?”
“Losing, I guess. Losing to somebody more powerful than you and being unable to admit it due to you’re already broken self esteem.”
“Well, what if you had to tell somebody to stop being arrogant?”
“I don’t know. But challenge accepted.”