Happy New Year to you! Happy birthday to me! Happy everything to everyone!
At 2:31 AM, I will be 25. Five's my favorite number, so five times five is magical. I am excited. I'm with my closest friends, freshly home, and very happy. It's going to be a good year.
Taking a cue from
pearl_O, I am baking my own cake. This is an awesome tradition. Formerly I
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(That said, last pic is my favorite--love everyone's body posture)
Okay, so, you. I don't talk to you as much as I'd like--that goes for everyone who commented here, actually, but still. It's, mm, hmm.
The frailty of the human body is, at our age, a secret known only to you, me, and a handful of babyfaced war veterans with dead friends or missing limbs. [Or nearly only] I know that the type of sick you are is not the type of sick I was, but we both understand, I think, what it is to lose time and youth and have to put things on hold, just because the body betrays.
It's not that you're defined by your illness, to me or to anyone else, but that going through this, surviving this, beating this--which you will--is a lesson so strange it stays with you forever. And it makes you better.
As impossible as it seems, there may be a time when you forget what it is to be sick. That's the folly of health, and it's wonderful. But even then, you will know, deep in your bones, that some of the stupid petty shit doesn't matter. Win or lose for some shit--who cares? To be able to wake up and spring out of bed is one of the greatest riches there is. And to have the tenacity to bully through every day being a fucking struggle takes courage and strength, and then builds those like muscles.
You're smart and adorable and very capable. You are kind, which counts for a lot in my book, and terribly, terribly grown up in some ways. I trust that you will use these things wisely, and live a good life.
<3
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