journal · letter

Softly, Patiently, Endlessly

My dear,

Your life has only just begun, yet you treat it as though the end is always nigh. I know your kind, because I have been that kind. Let down following let down, wrapped up in yourself, in your head. I grow weary of your antics. How much does someone have to give before it will finally be enough? But I must laugh, because I already know the answer. There is no saving you from yourself. Misery will be your house-guest for as long as you let it. I’m aware there is not always a choice, but you don’t even make an effort. The realization that I had today that he is to me what I am to you had me very amused and painfully sad. Do you not see that we are both two sides of the same coin? But how could you? You merely laugh and shy away from these things that don’t suit your mood. We all revolve around you once more, awaiting your whims and fancies. Amusing you as you pass the time. These are all judgements, but they, too, shall pass, as my understanding temperament returns. Oh my dear, I really do know you. I understand you in all the worst ways, have seen your good and your bad, your kindnesses and your gracelessness. I have taken your secrets upon my soul and cherished each of them with an open heart and mind. Have you forgotten that, too? The only entirely selfless act I have ever done is to love you. Because, honestly, it’s done nothing but destroy me. Is it pathetic that I would let you tear me limb from limb as long as you get something out of it? Because I love every flaw and facet alike. You are a gem and a curse, and I accept every inch of every single part of you, known, unknown, and unrealized. Perhaps you do not see this, but you don’t need to. It is as I said: I do not give it because I expect a return in kind, even if I do want it. I give it because, if anyone on this earth deserves a selfless act, it is you. Even if you don’t know it, see it, or accept it on a surface level. The feeling must somehow reach you that somebody loves you, softly, patiently, endlessly. Beyond belief. So don’t know it. Feel it. Feel it, and come to me someday, with your sudden realization, your eventual understanding, your heart finally alive with the reality of this truth. Or don’t. You may never know what love is. I’ll still love you, either way.

Yours,
Eerie

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