Love letter # 80

From up above it is easy to see how small we are; and when I am ‘up’ here my ongoing folly is all too clear. From this vantage point I can laugh at myself. I can breathe.

I have read the books, imbibed the theories and come to accept that desire is a source of unhappiness. I understand that when we love another we are most often simply affirming something in ourselves.

When I am on the mountain, peering down into the valley below, I can see that the urgency of my love for you was fuelled by none too subtle demons. My sorrow at your disinterest, my outbreaks of naked jealousy, my shameful attempts at emotional blackmail – these all spring from grasping.

But we do not love because we are sensible.

Still, I make no excuse. I have been undone by longing. I have been childish. And my love is far from pure.

However – alpine detachment notwithstanding – I love you enough to know I was wrong, to say … yeah, no wonder she left.

I was a fool who chased you – now I am a fool who walks away.

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