Love letter # 282
When you came into the room unexpectedly last night the calmness that I had felt all day dissipated in a heartbeat. That same heart was suddenly in my throat. Sense of calm replaced with shudders. It’s why I fled. It’s why I’m writing this.
Also, I feel it is only fair that you know why I am doing this – why I appear to be reacting in such a ridiculous and extreme fashion.
I have accepted your decision – and I also acknowledge that you have been open and upfront about your position. Likewise, I have pretty upfront about mine. For a while I think we both tried really hard to make our two desires live together – but it appears they will no longer do so. I know that we are both suffering now because of this and I apologise unreservedly for bringing this to a rather unfortunate head.
If I could see you and not be suffused with a mad tenderness – touch you and not be on fire – hang out with you and not want to spend the night with you, this would not be happening. But I love you; and every time you are near this feeling flares up in me. It is beautiful and warm and absolute. It brings both tears to my eyes and joy to my heart.
Yet I will not hide or dam up this capacity I have for loving – and having offered it you so openly and repeatedly I feel that it is time for me to let the idea of you go and move on. And the best way for me to move on is for me not to have you near. Not to be reminded – or inspired to foolishly hope once more.
Or to sit at your side wanting you like crazy but satisfying myself with mere crumbs. So I will not be the good little boy who shuts his mouth and sits on his hands and cheers from the sidelines when the woman he loves takes her heart and her body elsewhere – as one day you surely will. I have too much respect for myself now for this craven remaining.
But is this worth giving up the obviously beautiful friendship we have begun – the obvious connection we have? The answer quite simply is yes. However much I will absolutely miss you – and I most certainly will – being your so-called friend, looking but not touching, loving but not being loved … this will be far worse. Torture, in fact.
You see, I have been in this position before: done the right thing, tried to put my feelings to one side, put the other person first – and where did it get me? Damn nearly mad; and most definitely damaged.
I will not do this to myself again – not even for you, beautiful girl.
So when you see me running – acting like a complete fuckwit – please understand that it is not out of cruelty or spite or even stupid male pride – for I would gladly surrender any vestige of my vanity for the splendour of your kiss or for the thought that you might love me. I hide because it is too painful not to. Because I cannot look at the face of loveliness without wanting to burst.
And anyway, why would you want to be ‘friends’ with someone you know wants to be with you romantically – wants to wake up in your embrace? What could you possibly gain from knowing that I was just putting on a fake smile and ‘behaving’ myself? It would be a cringeworthy spectacle for you to have to endure.
I would rather you think me an overly emotional, obsessive idiot than come to see me as weakling fool who sat meekly at your feet like a little dog. I will sooner set fire to this melodramatic mess than wait for it to eat me away.
I also want you to know that I really did try to head this off at the pass. I made several attempts to distance myself from you. I sent you letters about it, remember. I made it as plain as I could. I knew, ages ago, that we would either be lovers or strangers. Now I think we both know the answer.
I cannot finish this letter without saying once more what a truly beautiful soul you are – and how I have treasured my times with you. How lovely it felt when you reached out and took my hand. How deeply I respect your patience with me and your moments of genuine caring. However upset I am sometimes – and whatever nonsense I might blurt out in pain – I have only love for you. It sits with me even now. Melting me. Making me wish I was not typing these damn fateful letters.
However, I do believe I tried my best. Perhaps time will reveal me to be wrong on this account but right where I am now I will not pretend. In love there is no consolation prize – at least not one that I am willing to accept.
And so on that note – I bid you farewell. I will let you go and I ask only that you allow me to do this. I may be a fool – but I am a fool who loves you – and this is why I am taking this action.
I do hope this makes sense to you and makes this little difficulty less of an inconvenience for you.
All my love – as ever