I’ve lived an epic life.

No intent to brag; just grateful. So much more than I thought my future would hold, could ever hold.

And so fortunate that I was smart enough or lucky enough to not get caught doing some of the things I did when I was younger, and even more clever that I stopped doing them.

I’ve seen amazing things. I’ve even done some of them. Through providence and circumstance, through pain and chance, I got to do just so many things that so many people insisted on telling me were just not possible for someone like me. And all with an amazing and unreservedly lovely partner, too, for the past decade. And a great friend for nearly as long, too.

I’m not even angry at those people anymore, by the way. I don’t need to show them anything. They do enough to themselves. Once you’re really happy, it doesn’t matter anymore.

I’m not where I thought I’d be at nearly 40. That was dead, by the way. Not only am I not dead, but have such a life that my younger self would’ve boggled at.

Fuck yeah for not giving in to the people telling me what I couldn’t do.