the letter you will never read

You asked what I see when I look at you. Well, I am not sure if you can handle it, but this is my truth.
I see a man who doesn’t love himself and who doesn’t acknowledge his achievements. At the same time, you like to brag about them and you are proud of the things you create with your mind and your fingers. You love what you do. It’s your passion and you need it like the breathing air. Yet you hate it because you are hostage of it too. You are so soft spoken and yet so vulgar too. I love that mix and our talks. Hours of your voice in my head and although you like to steer them to the lighter side, you can’t always hide the torment of your soul.
How can I make you understand how much you helped me with your sheer presence in my life. Dramatically put, you’ve saved me. And I still don’t understand what it is you see in me. Why did you choose me? I can’t see anything of value in myself. Ha, maybe that’s a lie. I have many qualities too. Still… What do you see in me? What do I have to offer that you so desperately seek?
I will never understand any of this. We are sharing fears and fantasies and so many of them are similar. And I wonder why? I read your words before I ever met you. You say you write from the heart and everything is true. It’s the same for me. But I don’t want to save you. I can’t be the one to save you. I can offer you other things, though. I will never give you my heart, it belongs to someone else, but I can give you a part of my soul. Isn’t that even more intimate? It’s the part that your words shaped. The part I am offering freely every time we talk. Just don’t forget that I am not a toy and not a whore you can buy. I don’t expect anything apart from honesty and respect. I said that before, right? We even talked about it. See, lately I don’t always feel that respect anymore. You are too sure of yourself or so it seems to me. And that’s what lets me keep my distances. By now, we both know that I am more to you than you let on. We both know it. It’s in the way we talk and the words you chose. What we know too is that you punish yourself. Living a fantasy that can never come true. It’s easier to reject people – me, when I set the limits myself. One of your first concerns was that I would fall in love with you. You said it could never happen. You even asked if it hurt me when you said the words, but once again I said that I already have a man in my life who I love dearly. You said that every woman you ever loved left you. And you sounded so sad and resigned. There is so much about you to love. More than you see. I am untouchable for you, though. Unreachable. And maybe that is exactly what you need. What you want. It lets you pretend that you will not be hurt like this. Although we both know that you are already hurting. The truth is, you are scared. Scared that someone could love you for who you really are. Scared that someone might see you and see all the craziness and still love you. At the same time, you need that love. Crave it. I can hear the longing when you speak. It will never happen if you punish yourself with pushing everyone who tries to love you out.
A lost soul, that’s who you are. Afraid to be found. Afraid to be understood. But I do. And maybe that scares you even more. I don’t need you in my life, but I let you in willingly. There’s a place in my heart for you. Just for you. You deserve love. And you are not alone. You are valuable. Your writing changes people, brings them inner peace and joy. And pretend all you want, talk about serenity, spirituality, and calm, but regardless of what you say, you haven’t found them. Or maybe you once had them, but they wandered off.
Could I ever dare to ask this question? Do you still have dreams? Are you too broken and lost to find hope?
You said you feel old. You aren’t old. Just tired. And it doesn’t help that you neglect yourself, your body, your health. You are better than that and you deserve better than that. I know that somewhere is the perfect person for you. Maybe it is me. Who knows? But that person is the piece that is missing for you to be complete. I believe in this; we are fragments blown away, that can only find peace when we are put back together. Complete. I am not sure if I could complete you. No, I probably couldn’t.
But the fact remains that I see you. Your pain and your misery too. I can’t end it or make it go away, but I can be there for you. I want to be there for you. Am I still a stranger, that’s what I wonder. And if I am, why do you fall back on me to cry and to talk freely? But again, maybe that’s how you like it. If you keep everyone at distance you don’t have to be you. You can hide behind your words and your talent. But hiding your true self makes you unhappy and miserable.
We are the same, you and me. You just had more time to become the jaded person you are while I was lucky enough to have someone stop my downward spiral. You stopped it. Made me open my eyes and see. Made me happy, at least for a while.
Life is hard at times. Feeling rootless is too. You ask me to tell you that I love you. In my own way I do. And yet, that one question is the opposite of what you said when we met. Why should I love you if you will not love me back? But maybe, maybe it’s already too late? Maybe you are already deeply in love with me? We will both laugh about that, right? We are not the romantic kind of people. Still… I know that I had you after you read my first story. I had you after the first time you opened up about your fantasies. I had you after the second time you asked if I was there and I said yes.
And that is what I see in you and that is why you love me. And I love you too.


Please keep in mind that this is a complete work of fiction… xx

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