You’re a lovely man, you are. Mostly, simply, because you put up with me. That takes an immense amount of patience, understanding and mental-health awareness. Yet you do because you love purely and fairly, which is just one of the reasons I love you dearly.
You’re getting old, though. Aren’t we both? Officially mid-thirties, certainly. When I met you we were in our mid-twenties. It seems like a bloody lifetime ago…
I can remember the time you weren’t a part of my life, but it’s foreign to me; strange. Because it seems like you were always there, even when you weren’t.
Your loyalty often drives me insane, but I appreciate it. The way you always see the best in people – that shits me, too. But as long as you always see the best in me, I guess that’s okay.
I have to share you as you’re loved by many. But that’s okay. It shows what a good choice you’ve made.
I know right now things are all a bit up in the air, but I hope what I’m doing will make you proud one day. And I quite enjoy taking care of you. I’ve neglected you for too long; so many things were so much more important – work, writing, hiding from social situations, self-hatred. Now you’ve given me the gift of time, and I can use that to give a little bit back. Not as much as you deserve, of course, but I’m getting there.
You know I can’t give you all that I’d like to give you this birthday, but I am sure you understand. You’re good at that; understanding. I love you for it.
So happy birthday, Mr Thomas. I hope you’ve had a fabulous day. I look forward to carrying on the birthday celebrations with you this coming week – we’ll make it a good one.
Thank you. I love you.