I have no idea how in the hell she manages to do it, but on both of the birthdays I’ve been around for, she’s managed to make herself appear just a little bit more inteligent, and little bit more relaxed, and just all around a little bit more the girl I love than the year before. Yeah, call me a sap if it makes ya feel better. I think some part of her can see she’s getting a little more like… herself, and a little used to the fact things aren’t quite as bad as they were. Maybe someday she’ll be able to look back on the craptasticness she’s been through and laugh her ass off about it. God only knows I probably will when I think it’s okay to. But for now, happy birthday, Jessica. You’re half a mile closer to supreme awesomeness than you realize. Or probably want me to admit to, but there just went that restriction.
This has been an all too rare extreme personal blog entry, brought to you by the date, and the fact she has absolutely no idea I’m doing it. And now, back to helping her with supper on the night before her birthday.