Journal
from emily the great
rayna, here is your happy birthday message:
you are very probably made of up of small dead children who died very happy deaths, but are still very nostalgic for their happy baby lives. you might subsist solely on the hearts and souls and vaginas of seriously hot fifteen year old girls. and i know that when you are an old woman, you will have a cane so you can whack the backs of the knees of school children as they scamper past you on the sidewalk.
congratulations on existing, subsisting, and growing older and closer to your inevitable caning future.
yours,
emilyn.
p.s. this is a picture of you and me in brain’s car on the way to jersey that day that you realized how awesome i was, and that day that i realized that you didn’t need to give me panic attacks anymore because you are superbly awesome (even though they didn’t really subside until like six months ago).
