LOVE LETTERS: PART TWO
The truth is that from the moment I found you I was incredibly glad you were in my life. It wasn’t until really the last few months ago, that we became really good friends, that I knew beyond a doubt that you were the last person I would ever want to say something horrible to. Here I have said several horrible things. If I look over even one line of something I’ve sent then I think how it is so much to deal with, how could anyone respond to it? And yet, here I have sent several lines. After the time in the past when I was such a shrew I think I decided I had to repent and saying nothing at all, let everything build up inside me, let it come out in such confused ways that you could not have known what was bothering me. I wondered so many things that I couldn't say. To feel the week after you had come to my house as if I had the black death, untouchable. As if you were virtuous not to touch me at all, to shut yourself off from me your friend, whom you had been loyal to and I loyal to you these ten months though you had no problem ejaculating in the mouth of someone you hardly knew? You were dirty for kissing me though twenty four hours earlier with that same mouth you had eaten the snatch of someone who... quite frankly you don't know. You did all that, but touching me was the dirty thing? If anything I've written has caused you pain, then I realized that I myself have experienced enough pain too.
I said this would not be an angry e-mail and yet here comes other things I haven’t said, that I have swallowed. I’ll leave them alone for now.
The point is that, despite all that I have said this week I adore you. The problem for me has been looking so often at this person I adore and honor, know well, love well, but who makes me feel everything I put in those letters that I have been so afraid to tell him. Because all of it sounds so cruel and I don’t know a better way to put it. All of this week I have intentionally not looked at a picture of you or thought too much about you because then I could never have written what I wrote, but if I hadn’t written it, then it would be in my heart, then sooner or later we’d have to face all of that. I understand all your life you’ve done the same thing I’ve done, skate along the surface of the truth, even makes truths. But we cannot do that with each other.
I am writing this so that you can write me back and tell me when you will be back. You have every right to be angry or hurt and not let me see you again, to put it off for days but please let me know a good day so that I can come and we can talk.
Yours,
Chris
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