I had dinner with myself 22 times last night.

They all showed up each year of my life.

15 came in naive, stuck in his own head.

1 and 2 were at the end of the table taking turns being fed by 16, who's a little distracted trying to fit in.

11 wouldn't stop talking about how he wanted to be a businessman.

7 was soft and gentle, kinda in the corner alone.

19 didn't wanna be there, and thought about going home.

13 was exciting. High school had just begun.

17 was excited, high school was almost done.

14 was making friends that 15 would soon hate.

20 was making big decisions.

And 18 was making big mistakes.

3 just kinda sat there, played with the food on his plate.

22 came in late, with a heartbreak for one who never fell.

While me at the head watched as they ate and smiled,

because most people don't have any friends.

And I have 22, each of them who knows what ive been through.

Walk when I walk, run when I run.

They've been to all the places I've gone,

and none of them could relate to each other.

They were different.

They had nothing in common.

All they knew was me, but they loved each other as the stories went around.

And 5 looked at me and said he was proud.

And that's when I really kind of started to break down.

So I stood on my chair, glass in the air.

I said: Guys, I can't thank you enough for bringing me here,

both the years that made me happy and the years that showed I'm human.

If I had the choice, I would love all of you again.

Through highs and lows, losing and wins.

Now, quick, let's have seconds — before 23 comes in.