another letter I will never send

BeautyEyes,

What would I say to you if I could speak freely, without worry, without fear? I would tell you that the past three weeks have been rather difficult for me. I would say that not hearing from you has brought up so many insecurities. That I've been cushioning myself for the hardest fall and the hardest rejection I've ever experienced. I've been trying to callous myself from the hurt and the ache of how your absence affects me. I would tell you that with you, I feel like I am falling in love all over again. I would say that it is a confusing and difficult thing for me because of all my other flings, I've never had to worry about these sorts of things.

And I would tell you that I've had other affairs. You would never ask me, I know. Because you don't want to ruin a lofty image of me and of what we have shared. But without worry or fear, I would want you to know everything about me. I want you to know about polyamory, and about my other secrets. About how my ring finger is longer than my index, and I'm not surprised. About my love of people and individuals, and the creative nature of relationships. I would love to tell you about my husband, and I wish I could share these things without the fear that you would become closed off because of vulnerability and insecurity. The truth is, we are all insecure in some form or fashion, and that fragility grows thick with every passing unanswered question. The questions that eat away at the core of our humanity-strength.

I wish that I could relate to people without feeling sexual attraction, sometimes. I wish that I could be that smart girl who is engaging in every way but sexually. I could be social. But instead, I am this person who feeds off of intimacy that is necessarily laced with sexual innuendo. I wish I could Feel freely without the anxiety that tags along about guilt. So apparently, yes, I do feel guilt. And I hate that I feel guilt. This one aspect of who I am is so liberating, and yet, so enslaving.

I love my husband, and I would never volunteer to abandon what we have together. Perhaps the argument could be made that in my actions with you, I have already abandoned something between he and myself. But that something... to me, is only a platonic form, an ideal that could never be actualized. In his heart, he holds me up as something of a giant, and in his reality-speaking eyes, he knows that I am not that giant. And yet his large and open space allows him to still supply this action. It is this action that makes us who we are, that gives meaning to our love, and that I treasure entirely.

And still, I would reinforce to you that I believe it's wholly possible to be deeply entrenched in and maintain indefinitely an intimate encounter, all the while engaging in the same forces with another.

I don't think falling in love is a selfish act. I don't think monogamy is a farce. I believe in the power and strength that comes from it, and I am devoted to my intertwined existence with my husband. The beauty that arises from this situation is tremendous. Can you accept that? Can you trust me in that? Can you trust yourself to jump, not knowing what the next step may bring? Can you seek beauty and love in every person you encounter, despite the fear and insecurities?

You meditate. That introspection... something connects that is grounded, earthen, woody. Our very bodies speak that same language. That is why we fit in each others' arms so well, so completely, so thoroughly. As though the pathway that connects the both of us to that earthly energy made a complete circuit, traveling through each one of us and returning to the source, the fit, the coupling, the embrace allowed the pathway to flow. Not everyone can feel that. You should celebrate that and revisit this moment when insecurities grow strong. These are real battles that are ever important in our daily lives.

The distance that I felt, while comforting my heart, became one of these battles for me. I let my fear take hold. My fear of what you think of me. My fear of never seeing you or hearing from you ever again. My fear of losing you forever. And yet I know I could never lose you because you have become a part of who I am. Your touch, your vision, your movement through life has influenced me ever since the day we reconnected. So even if you did decide to never speak to me, I will always have the parts of you that you did freely give, once upon a time, and they have become me.

Imagine in another universe somewhere, sexual intimacy between people is a method of life exchanges. The very act, instead of creating a child, results in an embodied exchange of memory. So that once we have been inside one another, we then share the same memories. Our DNA adjusts and we quite literally and physically become a part of the others' flesh. This universe that I speak of is the one that exists in my spirit, in this daily life on earth. I think all intimacy is much expressed in this fashion. Life-histories bleed together, and the person I am today, the person I will be tomorrow is entirely affected by the various individuals I brush up against. I breathe the same air, and share the same breath. Another man's intake is the same as my out-take. My inhalation has been inside another, and so on. Love, hate, anger, frustration -- they are all communicable. And so are walls. The walls I've constructed get passed on to others. and the ones brought down by others I too see crumbling around me.

BeautyEyes, these are only some of the things I would share with you if I could speak freely. If I could give freely, without fear, without worry, without self-doubt. But this doubt is in fact human. And these secrets will die with me. Perhaps when my mind should go frail, these memories will shift and recreate themselves in another form. More likely, I will edit all of this along the way. Whatever the case, I am delighted to know that you do still think of me. And that is something that I just may feel free to tell you.