Happy Birthday to My Favorite Person

Hey you! Yes, you! Happy birthday! I’m so fucking proud of you. 39. You are 39 years old. Not everyone gets to see their 39th birthday. But here you are. You survived. You fucking survived. Every single day you chose to live. Even when the noise in your head is unbearable–even when it drowns out all the good voices–you fucking did it. And you continue to do it. You continue to fucking survive and live.

You might have tried to end your life a couple of times–but I would like to assume that you are past that. And I am so fucking happy for you! You are here. You are present. Even when the weight on your shoulders and on your chest feels like a ton, you still manage to carry it all. You are strong. You’ve always been strong even when you thought you were not.

There are still times that you feel lost, and times when things just don’t make sense–when you have no clue why you feel the way you do. But guess what? That’s all fucking fine. You are fucking fine. Whatever hurdle you face, no matter the tall the wall, you will fucking climb it coz you are able.

Even when you feel that you are alone, you know that you are not. You are loved. You know this. You are fucking loved. And the best thing about this is you fucking love them all back. And that is awesome. That is beautiful.

So even when you feel like shit today, even when you feel like crying, celebrate still. Coz your life is worth celebrating.