solo mission

I HAVE A STRANGE RELATIONSHIP WITH solitude, but don’t we all?

As the only child of a single mom, my days as a latchkey kid started early and came often—and I loved them.

After tossing my rusty bike aside and fumbling for the key buried deep in my purple backpack, I’d open the door and watch my tiny home turn into an expansive castle that I ruled over with a softball-bat scepter and Burger King crown. Moments alone were the childhood pinnacle of escape. No rules. No expectations. And most importantly, no one around to suggest that my ideas were anything

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