The archive of the forgotten

Foolish love

Dear Rafe,

I am writing this letter to answer all the questions I never answered. The questions you used to ask when we were half drunk, sitting on the roof of the school. I want them to be answered, as best I can. So here a lengthy answer to all those difficult questions. Some are trivial, some....not so much.

You once asked me what my dream was. I've thought about it, my dream is to belong. To be loved and to be admired. And Perhaps I need to accept that that possibly is something not suited for me, at least in this lifetime. But I think you might have made this wish come true, at least a little bit. Although you have healed so many parts of me I still lack more than I could ever be held responsible for. If hurting would be a crime I would never get out of prison, but let's be frank most people would be in prison. How could we ever live a life without being hurt. If you do you are simply existing, not living.

I sometimes ask myself whether existing would be a lot easier. And most of the time I find that yes it would be. I also find that I am completely incapable of it. I need to live to at least feel some fragment of joy, and if that comes with decades of pain. I guess I will have to accept it, because who am I to deny it? I am not god, even though I would sometimes wish to be. Would I? It would be an awful lot of work and I would like to manage the world a bit kinder than the one now. Which in turn would give me even more work, how do you keep everyone happy? They say be careful what you wish for but they mean think about your wish. Would it make you happy? Most of the times the people will answer no. I also have a stupidly unhappy wish. But I still pray on it every single day. Because who am I to tell myself it is foolish, as I said. I am not god.

One of the other questions you frequently asked was why I always felt the need to help but never let somebody help me. The answer is that I never thought I needed, or even deserved help. The things that hurt me are always things I do not want to talk about, so asking for help means reliving the thing that is hurting me. That is an absolute nightmare, I am sure you understand. Besides, helping others makes me feel good. And selfish as it is it makes me feel needed, I want to be needed, if not belong it is the best if you are needed. But than you have the horridying notion of the possibilty that you might stop being needed. And what will happen than? I don't want to find out and luckily I do not have to. Or at least I really hope so. 

One of those subjects that hurt me was something you never let go. You were fascinated by it, probably because you and your brother are so inseperable. You always used to ask what my brother was like. To be honest you'd have to meet him to fully understand, I cannot explain the sheer happiness he brings to anyone he meets. The problem is I have two version from him in my head. The picture perfect one that I can't help but love to bits, and an ugly shadow of him which can't be the truth. I reckon he must be somewhere in between, I hope so. Although I am not completely certain. I haven't seen him in such a long time, I miss him. That I do know. But why don't I talk to him? Because cowardice is greater than comradery, fear is more powerful than love. I needed to choose, him or my parents. I made the terrible mistake of choosing my parents. I know where my brother lives, I know every single detail of his life the only thting I don't know is whether he has it in him to forgive me. See my brother was an angry young man, he got hurt in an initiation ritual, wasn't allowed to leave the club and my parents were both old members. It was easier to blame them. It still is, how could you ever condemn your child to a wheelchair for the rest of their lives? I hope it wouldn't be possible, but it turns out it is.

I hate this topic so let's switch

You were always confused to why orpheus looked behind him, condemning Eurydice to death. There's one thing you taught me Rafe, a thing I never wanted to learn. I remember the first time you brought anne home, she was so kind. I can't deny that and I also won't. I was happy for you, but I hated the fact that the thing I was feeling for you, you were giving to someone else. I understand that you love her. I can see that you would give her the universe if it would make her happy, you would stop the earth from turning and the people from breathing. But there's this jealousy that will never be fixed. I love you, I realised that too late. I want to thank you, for all the nights on the roof, for all But because of that you taught me this to love it to be foolish, and I am, but so was orpheus.

And so we arrive at the last question you used to asked this a lot and I never had a clear answer. But now that I look over this lake I think I know. Drowning doesn't seem too bad. They say it is quite peaceful when you give up. And to be honest. I have given up quite a long time ago. I will stuff my pockets with stones in the hope I won't float to the top again.

I hope I answered all your questions, because I won't be able to answer them from my grave.

You were the best best friend.

Signing off. I am foolish, I love you,

Arne

Hi everybody so basically this is a bit of an insight to how my brain works with philosophy and feelings.