So I woke up, crack of midnight today, in pain. Flopping around in bed, agonizing, I decided I had to write a letter to clear my head, and this is what tumbled out. I 51% didn't want to send it to her, and this is the fair way, I think, to have found an avenue to express myself. I hope you don't find this too self-indulgent, but I'm really grateful for the opportunity to be getting heard somehow.
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Dear X,
I hope this is a letter I never send.
But I think it would help to get my thoughts out on to paper. So I'm going to borrow your imaginary listenership for a while.
When and where I am is relevant, but not important.
You always struck me as a matter-of-factly sort of person. So I dunno, have you ever been in love before? Is it something you've experienced first-hand, so you know it's a real thing, and not a myth?
If I have, and by saying "in love" I've picked the right label for this, then yeah, not only once have I been in love, but it's happened several times. Everyone's "in love" is different, I imagine, but sadly, in my case, it's been "unrequited" each time. Best word to describe it, though now I'm older, I'm a bit more compassionate to myself and the lovely people I've fallen for, and I realize it isn't quite so simple as, "I liked them; didn't like me back." I've been a writer to yeah, now that I count, each and every one of them, and at the least, I think everyone has a soft spot for someone trying to struggle at them with words on a page, a wannabe writer. It's old-fashioned to write letters these days, and being "old-fashioned" in a certain way is an intentional part of my charm. Or should I say, a part of who I am that I like and feel is under my control.
Maybe like me you've been in love a couple of times too. Responsibly, and with the happy modesty that's going to believe this no matter what - I don't think I am, nor will be, one of those people that you fall for. I say this because you've told me as much in one of your letters, and as you described your love story that's defined your (married) life to me, this adds up. The happy modesty thing I say above is for the fact that I really like the idea that in life, we're all different people, and the less sense we make to each other, the more fundamental a version of reality we know we've encountered. Delusion, which I'm forever trying to quit, has us all agreeing in my mind with my particular version of events.
That said, as far as the word "love" goes, our matter is a complicated one. I mean, you wrote me once, and said I was in a dream of yours, way back at the beginning, remember? I must then exist for you as some sort of "phenomenon", let's call it that. If it's so that I've been supportive company during any part of your journey in life, even on this sort of subliminal level, I say "love" has entered into it, and yes, dear X, I love you too. Both awake and asleep, you have been a support to me in this way, and your imagined listenership has powered me through all sorts of times, good and bad.
But I'm not talking about this sort of platonic love, which really shouldn't go away because you've married someone else; it ought to instead develop and deepen. I love Y in this way too, believing him to be the well-wishing friend of my mind I was once 100% sure he was, which is why I'm rather cross that anything at all had to end up this way. Maybe it's all my fault.
My fault, because I happened to not just love you, but be "in love" with you too?
I ask above if you've ever been in love, because if you know it like I do, it's the kind of thing you don't need in your life. A few days ago, I had another dream you featured in, and after I said something, you looked around and gave me a smile you've never given me before but that other girls have. I know it's entirely stupid, but ever since, I wake up each morning, feeling like you're next to me. I reach out, and before I know better, I say something lovey dovey to you. It's so retarded that this night/morning, I decided I had to put a stop to things, by writing this sort of letter to you. See if I can't cure myself. Even your silence in not responding would be a splash of cold water to my face that could set me straight.
Yes, I'm pretty sure sending this would help me with how I feel, but I'm not trying to bring myself peace of mind at your expense. It doesn't do to send married women "love letters" like this; the last one was an honest accident, and I was sincere when at the time I wished you the best of success in your marriage. Sure, it might be fucked in some ultimate sense that honesty isn't always the best policy at all times, so in such a way, I could fire this off with no consequences. This, however, could just again be me and how I see things, which the world doesn't have to agree with me on. I think if I were to be honest with myself, the main thing about sending this is guaranteeing myself the ability to publish my thoughts somewhere. I don't know. At this point, I figure I'll share my thoughts about this elsewhere, so my writing style's going to adapt to this new choice accordingly.
If I'm wrong, and you've felt this way for me too at some point, or that one day you will, then so much of how this went isn't fair to either of us. I know if you did, your style being your style, you wouldn't openly say anything about how you felt, which would leave me still howling at the moon and feeling crazy.
Anyway, you used to sign off your letters this way to me, and I always thought you were joking but,
Love,
Z