Sometimes, I wonder what life would feel like if I had a brother. Not just another person in the house growing up, but someone to grow into life with, a man like me, born of the same blood, carrying the same weight of expectations, the same dreams stitched into his heart.

Now that I’m grown, walking this difficult road to purpose and greatness, the silence is loud. I have people around me, friends, even family but none who I can lean into with the fullness of my vulnerability. None who would understand my silence without me having to explain. None who could look at my struggle and simply say, “I know, because I feel it too.”

If I had a brother, I imagine we would share secrets only men can understand. We would hold each other accountable, push each other further, guard each other’s hearts against this harsh world. We would build together, bleed together, and rise together.

But I don’t. And so, I walk this path alone. Every victory tastes a little empty, every loss cuts a little deeper. I’m a man of purpose, yes, but even men of purpose sometimes just want someone to say, “I got you.”

I wish I had a brother.