My dearest K.

3.

4 January 2015

My dearest K.,

It is almost 12 PM and I was as always thinking of you. I guess our habit of talking till the first hours of the morning has broken. I just miss the way you laughed when I said there were two D.s inside me: one that hides herself under a devilish coat during day and the real one that dares to reveal her true self only after 12 PM. You wanted to make me be the second version even during day, but that version is drunk in sincerity and innocence: daylight could kill her, so you decided to keep her to yourself only. Now, I am sitting in the pavement of my window and thinking about the question in your previous letter: "When the world is quiet and you are truly alone with your mind, what do you think about? What do you hope for?"

Lately, I have been thinking about a fight I had with one of my friends. Both of us were to blame, but why did I feel like I needed to be jailed for what I did? Why did I keep staying there when I should be running? During those months of self-destruction, I made people around me suffer for what I went through, but when another person makes you suffer, it is because he suffers deeply within himself and his suffering is spilling over. I didn't need punishment, I needed help. That's the message I kept sending and nobody would understand.

So standing under this great black sheet that we happen to call sky, sailing in complete quietness, trying to survive loneliness, I found the answer to your question my darling: "I hope you don't ever sink in loneliness baby, because the thing about loneliness is that it demands to be felt: it wants its promised pounds of flesh, ounce for ounce. It won't stop until you are left with nothing and nobody but an empty scruffy shell of who you used to be. It can't be wiped off by this light breeze that is playing with my hair now (I badly miss the touch of your fingers in my hair by the way), it can't be wiped off even by a tremendous storm. It is one of those hideous places that once visited. You have to find your way out and even when you think you have escaped, you are permanently branded."

You were right: sometimes when people leave, they take their versions of us with them - leaving us free to find ourselves again. Now that I am free to find the true version of me, I have to make a visit to the world of deaths. But you won't have to worry sweetheart because I will never leave you alone. Just dig inside the hell of your heart: I will be there fighting with your demons, threatening them to leave your pure heart alone.

Forever yours,

D.