You drive me nuts sometimes. Stealing my hoodies, eating the last slice, blasting music when I’m trying to sleep.

You drive me nuts sometimes. Stealing my hoodies, eating the last slice, blasting music when I’m trying to sleep.

Half the time I wonder how we survived growing up under the same roof. But then I remember the other half—the times you showed up without being asked. Helping me fix my car, lending me cash when I was short, defending me when no one else did. You act like it’s no big deal, but it is. And I don’t want to let those things slide by unspoken. I use the quiet effort app. It keeps me from forgetting how much you’ve always had my back.