February 25th, 2009
Apologies don't hold depth until you act upon them. To knowingly do wrong—in this case, reading my letters—then apologize is blasphemy. Dearest M, I trust that you know to read mail that is not yours is a crime.
With that being said, I am trying to push that in the back of my brain to appreciate that you, a stranger, decided to write back. That because these letters, filled with inflicted pain and internalized sorrow, were so beautifully and twistingly put, you had to reply to express condolences.
But I cannot.
Because my pain is not literature. It is not artistic expression. It is sorrowful. It is the abyss. It is fatal and to tell you the truth, it is sometimes irreversible. Please do not call my pain beautiful, for you never know what you are beautifying.
Stay cautious of what you say and do, M. Unbeknownst to you, it may boomerang back to you.
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...
