Being a paragraph is kind of a weird gig, honestly. I’m just a chunk of text, hanging out between margins, trying to make sense of whatever idea someone tossed my way. I don’t get the glory of a headline or the punch of a closing line—I’m the middle child of writing, the bridge between thoughts. Sometimes I’m short and snappy, other times I stretch out like I’ve had too much coffee and can’t stop talking. I live for commas, breathe through semicolons, and occasionally get wild with a dash. People skim me, quote me, sometimes even ignore me, but I keep showing up, doing my job, holding the story together. I don’t need fancy formatting or bullet points