This was my story, even if partially so. It comes soon to an end. A strange thing this : when everything you hold dear and love the most is taken from you, the threat of being erased from existence becomes something to be yearned for.
Time, it seems, grows short. Not that I need steeling my resolve for this, but I must cling onto whatever courage I possess still. I fear lingering further may yet cause my determination to waver.
I am
indebted to you, even through all these tragedies I wrote to you. That all of
this turned out to have never been, made it no less real for me, because for me
they were as true as the universe itself. Earlier I wrote of what you meant to
me and what you inspired me to do. Understand that all the choices pertaining
these events were mine and mine alone. I was the one who was foolish enough to
meddle with things that had better, perhaps, never been tampered with. But I
have failed to mention one thing, and that always, all ways, and forever, and
for ever, world without end, even when the times were darkest, I knew I could
fall back to one of your books, and find some peace there. In all the words you
wrote, in all the characters you dreamed of, the underlying and neverending
notion of optimism and gratitude for the simplest things in life always struck
me as something to strive for. That, no matter how dark the night before, the
coming morrow could bring a new hope, a new chance for light to shine, is what
always kept me going. These notions - and so many more - were made self evident
on your characters, and it seems to me that you actively sought for their own
well-being, and maybe because you yourself had not experienced one such
instance, all of them were given happy endings. Or what seemed like happy
endings, anyway. Maybe for some it was an ambiguous ending, that I chose to
interpret as something better. But still. Still. That you wrote so
enthusiastically about the virtues of love and kindness, that you espoused your
thoughts into words of sheer brilliance, that you stood out like a beacon of
the brightest light when all about you reveled in the darkest writings... you
brought me much and more than I ever dreamed of. You and your words gave me
everything that I am. And knowing what I know from your own biography, knowing
that you yourself never put yourself in one of your character's shoes, I beg
you to do so. Write a character that is you, let him become your avatar, and
write for him, for true, all that you dream of for yourself, but keep to you at
all times, let him have the life and love that you only dream of, and then make
it come true.
Infuse this
character with all that makes you good and true, make the words that bring him
to life to be born from your very core. And never - I beg of you - never lose
sight of hope.
If you can glean anything from this, may it be that so very often, hope can be only a quiet calling away.
As these last few words ebb away from me, I feel spent, as if I have no more inside. And I do not, in truth. The envelope will soon be sealed and then thrown inside one of your quaint mailboxes. I will never know if you read this. But I will depart from this plane of existence with hope in my heart. And not just for you and for me. Hope for us all. And really, when one lives one's life with hope and kindness and love in one's heart, how else can you go if not in absolute peace?
I leave you, for all time.
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