I love my boys.
No, seriously, I love my boys.
You're here for me when I'm all alone here, and I know that I can have fun with each and every one of you. You guys can make me laugh in the worst of situations. I know that just walking around in circles or hanging out in a parking lot will be the most fun I could ever have when it's spent with you.
You accept me for who I am. I don't have to put on a mask to hang out with any of you - I could just be my stupid self. I can skip in the Mall. I can yell at you for burping. I can sing crappy pop songs at the top of my lungs. All without any problems.
I love each and every one of you. Steve, Carmine, Jay, and Jon. I don't even need to mention you, Joe. You're all I have here in Staten Island. You make me and Amina have the most possible fun ever. And that's the truth.
The past is odd. It creeps up on you when you least expect it, and then you're thinking of times that happened a while ago. And those times hurt. They hurt badly, and you wonder, why didn't things go differently? But then I look at all of you, and I realize, now I know why they didn't turn out differently. I would have never had any of you.
Thank you for making me laugh. Thank you for the renewal of Friday and Saturday nights. And most of all, thank you for letting me be who I am.
I love you.
