It’s been so long since I’ve last written you. Or maybe that isn’t quite term, since these are hardly letters, and you don’t ever read them. Everyone else must be thinking how foolish and childish I am; concocting my own fantasies in this sequestered underground. I don’t know why I still keep thinking of these as letters, but I don’t care anymore, I’m just going to treat them so, and whoever finds it ridiculous can..
I’m sorry, I digress. I have a terrible stomach ache and it’s distracting. Yes, as I was saying, it’s been so long since I last wrote you. I am writing you now because I want to tell you about something I’ve realized about you. Tell you about you, ha ha – as if I know you better than you do yourself.
You still like that boy, don’t you? He’s always making laugh, and you’re always so comfortable around him. When he’s not around, you ask about him. And when someone mentions something about him, you jump to a start, and with eyes as wide as the ocean, pursue the hearsay to its conclusion. Perhaps, you have been telling yourself that you no longer like him. But you know deep inside, at the tender bottom of you heart, that you still like him. You wouldn’t mind at all if he came back to you and asked for your hand. You’d be thrilled, delighted.
This is exactly the problem: You keeping him trapped in your mind. He is the only one you want, and all the qualities possessed in him you take as the qualities that are golden, immutable, divine. Thus, in every new boy you meet, you try as hard to seek out those qualities. You are not looking for a new person, you are looking for a clone. And so will every one of those potential suitors frustrate you with their ‘imperfections’. You fail to see their merits, what is unique about them; every other good quality is lost in the clouds of your desire.
But I suppose there is still a chance that he will come back to you. Is that why you are still holding on insistently to his image? Or I am sorely wrong about all this, in which case you must pardon my arrogance.