I was just chatting with a friend and I told him something very important; something I often forget. Even though I have a billion defects and well…have been through my fair share of ups-and-downs, I think I turned out pretty good and I want to improve myself and actually work for that. But most importantly, my father cannot take any credit for it. I am who I am and most days I have a difficult time accepting and actually liking that, but I should. I’m not perfect and I tend to screw up a lot and do the exact opposite of what is expected of me. I have my moments of great strength followed by moments of sorrow. Some days I feel invincible, others I feel the world’s weight on me. But no matter how hard or suddenly I fall, I always manage to get back up. I am who I am because of my mother, my grandmother, myself, and my life. It’s a matter of situations and their results. And if I am a disaster; I think I’m a beautiful, complicated, unique one.