Two Dead Letters Unearthed, finally.

by Tessitore

Published November 29, 2004

November 11, 2004--

Dear E,

Ah, my mind is racing. Split. Confused and yet certain of this one thing. I feel like just rubbing up against something, rubbing off this feeling before it breaks me into a thousand pieces and scatters me all over the world. Like my skin is the only think keeping me from going everywhere at once, to quote a favorite movie of mine.

I can't help but think of you when listening to that band that you briefly mentioned in your diary... some of their songs... seem to have something I wish to say to you, something I feel for you.

Doubts haven't settled in yet, but I'm frantic. Frantic to see you, touch you. Needing to be near you. A need that frightens me at the same time that it keeps me happy and warm.

That little tinging feeling in my stomach hasn't gone away, only grown larger and more intense. New love. Oh, I haven't had it for a while, but... seeing those words did something to me. "I love you, too". It just settled right in. I don’t' think it's going anywhere for a while. It's camped out and ready for a long haul.

Heh.

Oh, it's wonderful to be able to say those words freely to you, finally. Love you, love you, love you. I've wanted to say them longer then I think you could imagine. Wanted to say them longer then I think even I am aware of.

Gods, I wish I could see you right now. Rub against you and let you feel it. Let what I feel for you just bleed out of me and into you. I want to be able to SHOW you how I feel, but I can't. I wish I could.

...You know you're in deep when you whisper, "I love you, E" and you start to cry with the feeling. It's so deep, like a well, and sometimes it just overflows, and I can't help but feel intense. Intense everything.

-Tess

****************

November 14, 2004--

Dear E,

Well, here I am again. You see what you've done to me? Not only these, the dead letters, but sleeping. I can't seem to get to sleep at all, matter of fact, these past few nights... and it's your fault, I'll have you know.

And I'm dreaming of you, too. There seems to be no realm that I'm not thinking about you.

New love, eh? This is what it's like. How quickly I forget, even though it hit me once only a few months ago... but that was different. It wasn't returned. And, anyway... there's no feeling quite like this.

I light a candle when I write about you. And when I'm done, I blow it out and make a wish, kind of like... a birthday candle. A little obsessive, I know, but it's something that I've been doing. Habit. Can't break it without feeling odd. I only have thirteen matches as of now, I could always refill the box, but that wouldn't be right. Thirteen more wishes. The candle is for you, though, and no one else... not really.

I have this feeling that since you are there, and I am here, it makes just that bit of difference. Everyone is here. I can wish on them. I cannot wish on you. So my candle is a "you". In a way. My, it's hard to explain this whole tradition of mine.

But your candle smells like vanilla and spices. I think it's nice. I like it.

And damn that band that you started me into. I'm slightly obsessed with them now, and every time I put on that record I think of you.

I'm think of you a little too much. Not just a small obsession.

And my stack of dead letters has grown significantly since I started writing to you. Since I started this whole thing. Since we both said those words.

Aye... aye, aye, aye... those words ring. Even though I didn't hear you say them I feel like they were whispered in my ear. Carried on the wind. I think about it a bit too much when I'm lying in bed, when my head is clear and empty. You just come wandering in with those words and your smile and I try to roll over and go to bed, but I can't. You keep me awake every night.

For the first day or two I just thought about it. And sometimes I'd be sitting at my computer, then I'd turn around and hug the edge of my bed, and lay my cheek against it, and say "I love you, E" and I'd cry a tear or two, then go back to what I was doing.

Ah, they are wonderful feelings, but sometimes I wonder if they will increase or go away. And I wonder, almost constantly, how you feel. What you are doing and saying.

You filled me like this before, right after you left and before you got here and while you were staying here. When I was lying in bed--damn, you always seem to come to me then--with or without you. I'd wonder on it. Wonder what, exactly, we'd be able to do together. Why we couldn't. I'd get frustrated and my frustration would rock me to sleep.

Above all I think I was afraid that I'd try and kiss you and you'd push me away with a look of horror on your face and say something like, "What did you think you were doing?" Fear of rejection, you could say.

And I never even wrote that down or spoke it until now. I was so afraid of being pushed away. I was overwhelmingly afraid. And no matter how you may say, "I would never do that", I am still afraid, damn it. And I couldn't say why.

And I so want to be able to pick you up at the airport and hug you and kiss you, and just be happy that you're around, and I'm scared that you'll not want that, and it hurts.

It's just me being self-conscious, I suppose. There are no reason for these fears, but I feel them nonetheless.

It makes me angry sometimes. My fears are unreasonable.

Ah, I leave you now. And blow out my candle and wish for the same thing I've wished for since I started lighting them;

Be here soon. Let me see you... soon.

-Tess

Comments & reviews · 5
User avatar
RandomTalks
Review
RandomTalks wrote a review Review · Oct 5, 2021

Hello!

RandomTalks here with a short review!

To be honest, when I first clicked open this work I did not have many expectations. But once I actually started reading it, I was struck back by the emotion behind the words you have written. This seemed like a very personal piece and after reading all the comments I have realized that it is. I guess because of that fact, the feelings and emotion running throughout the two letters get sort of multiplied.

I will be honest. I did think that it was a little confusing. I could not understand where the recipient of this letter is. Because of how it was written, at first I thought that this person was gone. But the second letter made me realize that they are there, just out of reach of our narrator. I think you could have made that a little more clearer. But it does explain the longing, the passion with with which the narrator is awaiting for them. I think that is the emotion I recognized the most in your piece - passion and longing. From what I understood the narrator is insecure about their relationship and scared of their feelings not being returned. Well, I for one, certainly hope that everything works out for them.

Here are a few nitpicks for you:

I've wanted to say them longer then I think you could imagine. Wanted to say them longer then I think even I am aware of.

In both these sentences, I think you meant 'than' in place of 'then'.

I'm think of you a little too much.

It will be 'thinking'.

I did question your word choices a bit and your sentence formations, but I guess it depends on person to person.

That's all.

Keep writing and have a great day!

User avatar
Tessitore
Comment
Tessitore commented Comment · Dec 3, 2004

You may hear more for that particular person in a good few weeks, when I allow him to read them, but for now they'll remain sealed. My other letters will depend on when the person reads them. It's the way these letters of mine work. But thank you, all, for reading them. I appreciate it.

Random avatar
mim
Comment
mim commented Comment · Dec 3, 2004

i just wanted 2 say that i was also kinda compelled to read the letters. I thought they were really cool and dead interesting. You should defo put some more on the board!! I insist - and i won't take No for an answer either x

User avatar
Tessitore
Comment
Tessitore commented Comment · Dec 1, 2004

Heh, thanks. These are actual love letters, too, and there are more of them, to all my different significants. About twenty-three others in total. Have you ever seen a stack of twenty-five sealed (I have a pretty rose seal and sealing wax *squee*) letters? It's quite a pile. I must say. I hide them behind my books on my bookshelf... =)... [sarcasm] not like I'm afraid of anyone reading them or anything [/sarcasm]....

User avatar
Chevy
Review
Chevy wrote a review Review · Nov 29, 2004

i really enjoyed this and you had a way of keeping me reading. i especially enjoyed the beginning of each of the letters...when writing like this, it's always important to began with some action and something intriguing....you really did a great job--i can't say nothin' but good stuff about this. excellent. :D



The greatest part of a writer’s time is spent in reading, in order to write; a man will turn over half a library to make one book.
— Samuel Johnson