June 10th, 2009
Have I not said enough to convey what I think of you? There's so much I think of when it comes to you. For some reason, you've managed to see me for who I am through these papers. No one has dived into my soul and not shy away from what's inside. When we started this flirtation, you were simply an intruder in my uttermost intimate moments. But as each letter came, you constructed this nest for you to call home in my most sacred space. And despite every effort made, I can't seem to remove you. No amount of will, force, or determination can exterminate you. And that's what I detest.
You aren't supposed to be who you are. You were supposed to be another man in a small town struggling through this life on Earth just as I was. But you aren't. You are practically larger than life. Everything in this world has been inspired by you. No one even knows who I am. I am just a woman stuck working at an office who doesn't have the confidence to share her writing with the world. Yet somehow out of all people, I inspire you to continue on your life path. Strangely, I believe it. Not having everything is what ignites the will to live life. If we did not have goals and aspirations to chase, we would be wading for several years until the darkness engulfs us. As much as I wish to achieve my dreams as an author, the will to reach that goal is what's helping me get through life.
You have everything. All of the enthusiastic fans, extravagant events, and luxurious possessions hold no value because it's not intimate. They cannot speak to the soul nor feed it. That inspires me to enjoy the present and be blessed for having dreams to pursue. In a way, we inspire each other in ways I didn't imagine. What you mean to the world has me stunned, but surely if I try to strip that from you and see you as the man I know from these letters, there won't be any complication on my end. I could embrace our courtship freely. But it's going to take some time. This is a complicated situation I need to wrap my head around. And to be quite honest, I need you to help me. How I don't know, but I can't do this on my own.
With Love,
Elaine xo
YOU ARE READING
With Love ◛ Michael Jackson
FanfictionAfter the death of an aspiring writer's mother, she sends letters to her void address to cope. But what she doesn't know is the address is occupied and that her letters have been read by someone else until he writes back. This Is It era Afro British...
