To my grandma, Tortorella. Thank you for showing me that, no matter what you look like or where you came from, everyone is capable of love.

To my aunt, Jennifer, who is the hardest to write for because the words still hurt. I love you no matter what and I thank you for showing me the stars. Maybe one day, I'll see you there.

To my first best friend, Casey. That Spice Girls concert was epic. We took a limo and I brought you flowers. I remember the way your house smelled and that boxer named Caramel.

To the first girl that kissed me after I chased her on the blacktop at recess. Tara, thank you for the butterflies and The Grateful Dead.

To my first girlfriend, Anna. Remember when I brought you that singing bear to your elementary school and embarrassed the shit out of you? Thank you for teaching me how to play suck and blow and constantly inspiring me to be funnier.

To the girl in high school who taught me how to write a love song. Dana, to this day, if I pick up a guitar, I'll play one of them. "I see the way you look at him, but I see the way you look at me."

To Arielle. I remember those long nights in the the attic, the poems, the long talks, and the longer cries. You taught me how to perform and feel and hurt and love all at the same time.

To the girl I lost my virginity to in Mexico named Antoinette. Remember we were watching Scarface? Say hello to my little friend. I just met you that day and you had me at hello.

To my high school best friend, Mary, who taught me how to smoke weed. I loved you more than you'll ever know. You showed me how to love myself and, more importantly, to question everything around me.

To my girlfriend, Bridget, the one with the red hair and freckles. You taught me how to be free. Remember when I was sick and you came over and spent the night? I was like, Man, she knows she's gonna get sick and she still wants to be with me. That's love. Over the years you reminded me of the power that is sobriety, and for that I'll never be able to thank you enough.