Letters to my best friend

Part 1

Every single day. Every single painful second spent awake, I spend equally lost in a you-infused daze. Is it not torture enough that I’ve been cursed with seeing you in every wonderful thing? You are my whole past, and a future without you is a future consumed by you. Physically, you may have left, but in all other forms, you’ve lived on as the pillar of my entire being.

When I’m not awake, you steal my dreams. And I’m sorry if I steal yours sometimes, too. I only wish I knew if I appeared in them. I’m confident I’m with you when you see the moon, or when you hear even a snippet of something I may have said.

Are you consumed by little slices of hell every time I cross your mind, like I am when you cross mine?

“I miss you oh so much. How much, you’ll never believe or know. At every moment of the day. It is painful but also rather pleasant, if you know what I mean. I mean, that it is good to have so keen and persistent a feeling about somebody. It is a sign of vitality.”

― Vita Sackville-West, The Letters of Vita Sackville-West and Virginia Woolf

What am I now but an open wound, bleeding and bleeding and bleeding into the abyss. No stitches can hold my heart together like the grip of someone who loved me so wholeheartedly as you did.

Perhaps we were cursed from the moment we laid eyes on each other - two romantic dreamers with a passion for unrequited love and tragic endings. Maybe it was written in the stars, with tear-spattered ink, that we’d gain and lose each other with such intensity.

Either way, you hold my heart in your hands, and I can feel it - trust me, I can feel it - every time you squeeze.

“He is half of my soul, as the poets say.”

―Madeline Miller,The Song of Achilles

I’m a whole person on my own, Kate reminds me. But she’s wrong. So wrong. You will always have the other half of me. I lost a part of me when I lost you, and I will never be whole again until we’re reunited. And if we should never reunite, I will simply go on living as half the human I once was.

Or maybe I never was.

I’ve suspected for a while that you were the piece that made me whole. The Patroclus to my Achilles, the broken wing mirror to my star-lit room, the unnamed dreamer to my dear Nastenka.

This is me now - a creature of immense pain. But one that’s been lucky enough to know love to such depths that billionaires, in all their stupidity, would die for a chance to explore them.

Sometimes, without you, it feels like I’m alone in the universe. But then I realise - you’re in the universe, too. And as long as we share the same stars, we’re together. Somehow. Somewhere.

Take care of my heart, now. It’s yours. It’s all yours.

I am reduced to a thing that wants Virginia. I composed a beautiful letter to you in the sleepless nightmare hours of the night, and it has all gone: I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way.

― Vita Sackville-West, The Letters of Vita Sackville-West and Virginia Woolf