Dear Sarah,

Happy 18th birthday. You have inspired me in so many more ways than one, and for that, I must thank you. Amongst our endless night clamorings and random physical interactions, I do not know if I could be any more thankful to have you as one of my dearest friends. I wish you could see yourself the same way I do—in a loving lens that does not scrutinize the details, but appreciates them, loves them.

I wish you could understand that I do not see you as an “epitome” by any sort—I would hope to never place such pressure upon you. But rather, I view you as both a dear friend and an inspiration in one. Not in the sense that you are perfect, but that you make me a better person in some ways, and worsen me in others. But such is balance, and for that, I can only laugh and appreciate such changes as I accept them with ease.

If only I could portray my thoughts about you in a way that is wholly encapsulating my love and not seemingly “passive aggressive;” but alas, my love is not particularly black and white, as I often love the whole, not the ideal. You frustrate me occasionally, and yet despite these moments, I love you for it. With a temperament as unstable as my own, I presume that can be considered as some sort of testament to how much I adore you.

At the end of all this, I wish for your wellbeing, happiness, and someday, self-love. I wish that you may see yourself in a loving light that is deserving of such love, not in a way that is forced upon by toxic optimism or even my own providing of said love, but that of self-realization.

You deserve to be loved, and so much more.

Yours always,
Victor