“In my own strange way I’ve always been true to you, in my own sick way I’ll always stay true to you.”

53 years young he is today. Bless him. Look at him. Stood there, with a cute cat on his head. Just look at him. Look into those eyes. Those eyes have seen the things that have led to him writing about the things that created the songs that saved your life. Are you glad you were saved, or would you rather not? Well, that’s up to you. Keep your misery in a firm chokehold and remind it that you own it. It doesn’t own you.

Where the heck do I begin writing about Morrissey? Well, from the start would probably be wise. I’m not wise. Anyway. Morrissey. Birthday. TODAY.

My love for Morrissey cannot be measured. My love for Morrissey cannot be put into words. Yet I feel the need, as I drink tea out of a Morrissey mug to express my love for him. It’s his birthday, not that I need a reason to do this but still.

Alright, so Morrissey. You tyke, how on Earth do I start this? I’ll do it in letter form. Consider this an open letter from an outsider. You’ll never see this but I guess I have to blurt it all out. Here goes nothing, with everything!

Dear Morrissey,

I am just another fan of yours. I’m just another fan who has been obsessed with your words and music for as long as I can remember. I’ve only seen you 4 times, and I only have 1 tattoo that shows my love for you. Is it enough? Tattoo wise, I think so. The body is a blank canvass so..I might as well decorate it the way I want it to be.

You see Morrissey, your words have given me hope and laughs. Tears and strength. Giggles and pain. You’ve summed up every frustration and fury I have ever felt. You’re one of the few reasons as to why I am obsessed with words. You’re also probably why I love cats too. They’re fascinating aren’t they? What you have done is help me make sense of every good and bad emotion I have ever felt and continue to feel. I play Black Cloud and I think of the one I cannot have, and will never have. I play Speedway and I think of every shit thing I have done- and I feel no remorse for it is over and done. I play Alma Matters and it is like two fingers to those who are well, you know what they are. I play Everyday Is Like Sunday and it reminds me of where I grew up and quickly grew tired. You are the soundtrack to my life. For everything I have been exposed to- you have a song for it. I used to want to have a girlfriend who was clinically obese so I could play You’re The One For Me Fatty to, but I didn’t want the local supermarket knowing us on first name basis. So I no longer want. I must confess, I never want to be with someone who loves you like I do. Mainly because I don’t want that connection. I’d much rather bond with them over another band. I won’t mention names. I won’t share you, you know how it is. Then I listen to your songs, and I think I’ve now resigned myself to a life of books, notebooks, lots of cats and a rocking chair. It’s not that bad is it? I’m not a bitter person, far from it. I cannot be bothered with bad feelings- your lyrics taught me how to let go. I cannot thank you enough for this.

Your music has provided me with everything I need to drag me through the days. I don’t discuss the nights because I try to sleep. I try, I bloody well try. Every single time I have seen you live, I cry as soon as you walk on. As you stride to the centre of the stage like a graceful creature (a cat perhaps) I feel as if something truly powerful is taking over me. The first time I saw you live was after I had been dumped for the first time. I will not go into details, I refuse to. But I remember the train journey from the middle of England to Manchester to meet my mother. We then went from Manchester to Stirling. I never knew how one night could change my life. You know, I could’ve been one of those people who throw their lives away due to hurt. I then watched you sing your heart out. As I watched you, I sang along. Tears fell down my face. At the end of the concert, I felt like a huge weight had been lifted from me. I felt as if nothing in life mattered anymore. I had felt something so bloody awful beforehand, and you eased it. You took it from me, and gave me life again. This is just another way as to how you saved my life. You changed my life.

I’m writing this as if you will see this, but you won’t. All I can do is hope maybe a fan who feels the same way as me reads this and feels less alone. That some stranger has managed to get these feelings out, so they do not have to. That’s what you did for me.

A few weeks ago, I was stood in the smoking area of a club in Manchester. This man started talking to me, and as I spoke he said “You remind me of a young Morrissey. How you speak, and your presence.” We then started singing Every Day Is Like Sunday together. A drunken moment that is forever etched in my heart and mind. I’ll never forget that. If he was a woman, I may have proposed. Or bought her a glass of good wine. Probably the latter.

I wish you a Happy Birthday. I wish you happiness, health and love. I hope you are fully aware of what you mean to myself and to so many others across the world. You’re the light that never goes out. You are hope, truth and wisdom.

I simply cannot thank you enough, so all I can do is end this with a simple yet honest- I love you.

Stay gentle, be cautious if you must.

All my love,

Olivia xxx