You are reading this because you didn’t. I am writing this because I didn’t. Do you know how amazing that makes us?
I hope you don’t mind, but I wanted to offer something of an addendum to those thoughts which you have transcribed so (to my mind) painfully yet perfectly. For I read your words and couldn’t not comment. If I refrained, my own words right here would simply sit and stifle all others; and with many hours between us, this is the best I can manage at present.
I hope they come across as heartfelt as are in my head.
This – I realise, as I go to write – is going to sound slightly confused, no matter how it is put to type. I do not want draw too much comparison between us; for I know that our struggles are worlds apart. But nor do I want to come across as patronising or paternal, and I fear that such a distinction does just that. Thirdly, I do not want to equivocate; and any pictures I attempt to paint will inevitably serve to distinguish.
I suppose I should beg patience on your part.
I very much recognise the inherent, ever-present nature of those feelings you describe. When they wrought themselves upon me, they were – to my inexperienced mind – surprisingly inescapable. That readiness to pounce: for me, it was like a sudden body-wide itch – one of insufferable pain and inimitable desperation – which could seemingly only be relieved by one final act.
I understand the internal turmoil, the inevitable loneliness, the complete desperation. And whilst I would never wish, nor seek, to take any part of anyone away – especially from you and your beautiful soul – I want so much to be able to take all of those cursed things away.
Of course, having endured them myself, I know how futile is this desire. Though please don’t believe for a second, my dear, that this means that I will ever cease trying. If you did believe such an absurdity, then I would tease you a fool (the most critical you can ever expect from one who adores you).
And to preempt you: “I’m just me”, you’ll say. Yes, you are – and you are more than worthy of (my) affections (so please don’t waste our time trying to dissuade me(!))
For what it’s worth, you describe your feelings in a beautiful and powerful way: candid yet haunting. That is something not too many can achieve. Talent like this should – if, indeed, in spite of all else, you can – be exercised as commonly as you see fit. A bittersweet observation, I suppose; nevertheless, you owe it to yourself.
Finally, as you yourself said, you can survive. And I will do everything in my power to help you believe that, too.
All my love,