I could be uselessly miserable for the rest of my life, tuning out of conversations at 7 in the evening, yelling at myself and them every now and then for being pathetically helpless. I could scream at my reflection in the mirror for being worthless until the words begin to bleed from my mouth. But instead, I’ll love myself. I’ll love my parents. Because they gave me a life and I think I owe it to them to live to the best of my damn ability. I’ll love life, because out of love came me; a new life. And some people don’t get the graceful happiness that I did. That I have.