Mende left the letter by the envelope...
July 11, 2004
7:01pm
“O thou weed,
Who are so lovely fair and smell'st so sweet
That the sense aches at thee, would thou hadst ne'er been born.”
-William Shakespeare, Othello IV, ii
Dearest Claudia,
I laugh softly to myself as I gaze out of my bedroom window. I see a wonderful scene of green majestic trees framing the sun’s great rays of light. They shine and sparkle like the lights of a Christmas tree or the twinkle of a faint sprinkle of glitter on the round arms of lovely girl. It is so beautiful outside. It makes me wonder how humankind must have protested the building of shelters in the earliest of days. For who would shut out such a light with mud brick walls and ceilings made of stone or timber? Certainly, we were forced to do it by Nature’s brutal weather and Her deadly creatures, because it’s difficult for me to accept that humankind capriciously turned there backs on the beauty outside my window or simply never noticed it.
Now, I say that it’s difficult for me to accept that vast beauty can be rejected, but I secretly know that it is indeed possible. I say, “secretly” because the unfortunately prevalent memories that contain examples of this phenomenon are locked away in my mind. I know of the memories because I, of course, lived them out, but they visit me always in the dark, always in secret. In dreams, during moments of careless reminiscing, or in moments of emotional weakness, they come to haunt me or remind me that beauty can hold a heart fast forever, but the mind can force one to build walls between it or simply turn away from it.
I laugh at myself. What the view outside my window tells me is only what I don’t want whispered in my ear. I know that the beautiful containers of captured light high in the trees are your eyes’ twinkle. I know that the shelter of my house is a false barrier against the beauty that really resides in my memories and my heart. I know this and I laugh softly to myself as I gaze out of my bedroom window. I know that I teeter at the edge of a decaying damn that’s ready to unleash its secrets. I can see the vast barren lands at the foot of the damn and I can see the slumbering violence in the calm waves of the water behind me. I see it all and I laugh softly to myself as I gaze out of my bedroom window. I know the secret light behind your dangerous innocent eyes, I can see that the damn will fall, and I feel it all as I gaze out of my bedroom window preparing to unleash a storm. I laugh softly to myself. You will never know the effect of your reflection on my heart. You will never experience the power of waves blasting forth from their captor. You will never see this letter.
I knew this when dusty visions of you clouded my mind. I realized this when I found myself over my keyboard ready to reveal the story my memory would dictate. I had a strong feeling that my truth couldn’t be held in your ears. To purge your beauty from my soul, I was aware that I’d have to unleash it through honest words and I was aware that you aren’t and may never be ready to see yourself through the eyes of one who adored every fiber of your image. I knew that I could and should never show you this letter, but still I wrote, “Dearest Claudia.”
Well, I’ve said once before that it’s sometimes easier to release the hidden contents of one’s heart to a stranger than a close friend or family member and perhaps that’s the reason I’m addressing the letter, that you’ll never see, to you. Perhaps, my goal is to tear you from my heart and mind forever and to put you up as a distant stranger whose opinions on my confessions matter little. Maybe the Claudia at the beginning of this letter is the Claudia that I want you to be. Is it possible that I want to finally be rid of hopes of friendship, companionship, and love with you? Could I want you to be a stranger with whom I can share a secret with because I know that after I’ve shared, you’d be out of my life and mind forever? If that’s the case then the fear that my most guarded secrets will spread to my surrounding world would vanish because you’d no longer be a part of the world that surrounds me. I’d then be confessing my pains to an object of no worth to me, to an open space of nothingness, to a vacuum. Could I really want that?
I suppose that I need to write about you to finally be rid of you and also to find out if I really want to be rid of you and why. I guess I should start at the beginning…
************
I believe that I’ll never stop wanting to dislike you for as long as you’re within the reach of my senses. For now, I will surrender my memories to your dominance, but I will fight your scent and your sight though my senses may ache for these ancient pleasures.
It’s funny how different it used to be. I remember first noticing you. Actually, I really just noticed your neck. It was the neck of a proud swan turned human beauty. I was totally captivated by its great length and the impression of majesty and humility that it projected...