Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I go over and over in my head all my mistakes, all the times I kissed the wrong boy or said the wrong thing or chose self-destruction over choosing better or decided to scream and stomp instead of acting like an adult or did a million other things I can't speak of and I wonder to myself -- with all those mistakes, all those missteps, all that stumbling around in life and love -- how on earth I managed to make you.
Yet here you are.
Here you are.