My partner and I have intelligent and proper discussions
Just kidding. No, we don’t.

Today is the 38th birthday of someone I can’t seem to eject from my life. And not for lack of trying. He just won’t leave (just kidding, please don’t leave me). This is for that someone.
You are like a tumor that I ignored for way too long and is now inoperable. Removing you would kill me. Then again, I’m dying anyway courtesy of said tumor. But what a way to go, huh?
You somehow manage to be both the biggest pain in the ass imaginable and my best friend in the world. How is that even possible?
It’s been ten years since we met. The first time we talked (online, via AOL messenger), I thought you were dumb as dirt. I was wrong. My apologies to the dirt; I know, I shouldn’t have gone there.
In all seriousness though, when I saw you in person for the first time, my first thought was “he’s not ugly!”
We have had some times haven’t we. Good. Bad. Really bad. Terrible. But mostly awful. With just a sprinkling of intolerable.
All kidding aside, you drive me up the wall. You smile too much. And you’re too calm. Why don’t you ever get mad? You know I have anger issues. I break stuff. Your old laptop, may it rest in piece, did not need to die such a violent death. It’s all your fault my anger issues are out of control and I smashed it against a wall. That’s what you get for being in a relationship with a manic depressive junkie.
Also, I love you. And I love our awesome conversations. Like the one above. And the one that happened directly prior to - and was directly responsible for - this middle of the night tweet:

I guess what I’m really trying to say here is… you’re killing me. No, no. You complete me. No. That’s not it. Happy birthday? Yes, that’s right. Happy fucking birthday. To the special man in my life. I love you, puppy.
P.S. I know it’s almost 2am and your birthday is technically over, but it’s still Aug. 25 on the west coast so… it counts?