It has come to this. Finally, this fateful day, the beginning of your 19th year of existence on this miserable wasteland we call Earth. How quaint.
I guess it's traditional on these sorts of days to recognize the merits of the pathetic individual whose ability to still draw breath after 19 years somehow warrants a celebration. No, really, it's traditional. I googled it.
So I guess today, and today only, I shall let you know that I think you are made of all the good things in this world combined in a large mixing bowl. Add a dash of rage, a calculated pinch of manipulation, a handful of homicidal tendencies, and a whole lot of ruthless momentum. Bake for 19 years in the hellfire of Satan's kitchen. Remove the Davis Mendel from heat and let cool. Delicious.
Davis, you're crazy. Absolutely crazy. Crazy and brilliant and magnetic and exciting and handsome and true. I can't begin to tell you how lucky I feel to have stumbled upon your friendship. I feel like I'm on a rollercoaster at the top of the biggest hill, already full of butterflies in anticipation of the drop. I feel so privileged to know you, to be able to explore more of you every day. You never cease to amaze me. Your painting is so beautiful. The colors are magnificent.
The only thing that would make this better is if you were John Cena. I shouldn't have given him to you. I could have kept him for myself...maybe used him as some sort of weird dildo...
Thank you for everything you do for me. It is much more than I deserve.
Happy birthday you filthy animal.
