When I was younger, I used to think I was different. I thought I was special and unique, I thought things would get more simple as I aged. And I thought responsibility was a privilege. I've been wrong, and I've been wronged... and I've been sorry when I shouldn't have been. But in truth and honesty, and despite everything once thought of me; all I want is my own home and a family. A husband that loves me, and a place to call my own personal hell that pays me every week. I want to struggle, but not alone. And I want to match regrets with the things in life I must accept. I want to move forward and rip off the rearview mirror  and say 'fuck you', and mean it. I love you, I do. It's true.