Some names are just given. Yours, I gave myself because no other word fit the sound of you in my world

25 today. I keep thinking about how I got this lucky to have you in my life, I feel so lucky, to have found my way to you.

I love the version of you that's tired and sust at midnight. I love the version that mimics the Milk. I love the way you splurge, and grow every single year, becoming more unmistakably, wonderfully you.

So here's to the next one beautiful, softer, entirely ours. Fly as far as you want, Bulbul. I'll always be the branch you come home to.