“Oh you’re Johnny’s little brother? You must be sick bro.” Not quite. He played like he was born with a stick in his hand. And he went through school like he already knew the answers.

Having dyslexia, school has never been easy for me. But for him, he aced tests with no problem, could read a book in just a few days, and solved math problems like his brain was a calculator.
“Oh you’re Johnny’s little brother? You must be so smart.” Not quite. Every teacher I had after him had huge expectations for me that i wasn’t able to meet.

As I got older, I fell further and further behind my big brother in all of these places, and it was making me miserable. Then everything changed.

Four years ago on Christmas morning I opened up that beautiful ukulele and start playing immediately. Of course, I wasn’t as good as my big brother was, but I was drawn to it like Winnie the Pooh and the last jar of honey. Months later, as my brother gained interest in other things, my passion took over. I realized that just because my big brother didn’t do something, doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t either.

From that point on, I was obsessed with my own hobbies. I started yo-yoing, playing guitar, and tie-dying everything I could find. This realization also helped me with school, sports, and being happy in general. Instead of trying to get grades as good as my big brother, I worked the hardest I could, for me. And in lacrosse, I started having fun again. Instead of always comparing myself after a game, I would just enjoy my time playing with my friends.

Now people say, “Oh you’re Johnny’s little brother? I’ve heard so much about you! What he taught me changed my life. My big brother didn’t inspire me to be the best, he inspired me to be different. To be my own person. To be me.