I believe in the beauty in here eyes,
the body that carried me for nine long months,
the crooked scar from whence I came,
the long brown locks that I share,
the love she'll always have for me, quite requited,
the dislike that is so often mutual,
the laughs over that fact.
But just because she's my "real" mother, doesn't mean I can't love my father's wife, who did not birth me.
I believe in arguments
I believe in "Good Riddance"
I believe in one vocal chord giving far more comfort
Than "perfect" Charlotte Church could provide with her prodigious voice.
I believe in her wheels,
I believe in white chocolate truffles,
I believe in swedish fish,
I believe in memory, good and bad.
And I believe that no matter how many times I claim to hate her that i'll always come back, so that she might sing "I Will" in her broken voice, and that we will leave laughing and crying as we part for bed a thousna dmiles apart, at 2 and 4 in the morning, to wake tomorrow afternoon: refreshed...
I believe in Mother, Ma, and Mum,
And I will Always believed in Mommy.