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Okay fine. I'm late.
Exactly this late:
In my defense... actually no. I have absolutely no defense. And yes, that timer is real. And yes, it's still counting.
Late? Yes. Sorry? Very.
But do I mean every word of this? Absolutely.
Today is yours. The universe literally made this day just so you could exist in it.
And honestly? It did a really good job.
Your laugh makes people feel like everything's going to be okay.
Your voice? Unfairly cute. Like, it shouldn't be legal to sound that sweet and still win every argument.
Your heart is the kind people write songs about and still don't get right.
You walk into a room and something shifts — like the air got warmer and the lights got softer.
You make people feel seen without even trying.
And I need you to know — you mean more to me than you'll probably ever realize. More than a text could say. More than this page could hold. More than I'll ever be able to put into words properly.
So here I am. Late, yes. But completely, entirely meaning it.