A.a,
It gives me a quaint feeling to
discourse with you through a letter. I take immense pleasure in writing to you.
Just like our beautiful conversations, I shall keep this pithy. Nothing said
here is frivolous or facetious, and my intentions are honest, and sometimes
brutally and crudely honest.
Emotions are a tricky business to
me. It took me a long time to get comfortable with them, and even longer to
express them. The fact that I am laying my emotions bare makes me feel full and
peaceful. A totally unexpected event happened to me last week. This event was
not pronounced when it commenced, but as it grew, I realised it was
formidable—I am talking about my emotional bond with you. Developing an
emotional connection with a person is never my top priority, and the last time
I felt such a connection was more than half a decade ago, when I came of age. I
almost forgot I can connect emotionally with anyone. Now, the precise reason why
I’m writing this letter is that very emotional bond I felt with you. The
euphoria from a passionate expression is every hedonist’s dream, and I am
pursuing it too.
To continue a platonic
relationship with you any further is simply one of the most insincere acts I
can commit to myself, for my sexual attraction towards you, coupled with the
nascent emotional bond, is raw and animalistic. Except for the times when we
were lost in profound conversations, I always wanted to kiss your lips like a
veritable scavenger. The times when I massaged you with my tree-trunk
hands—kneading your head, nape, cheeks, ears, shoulders, limbs, back, waist—were
the moments when my greed to enrapture your senses was overflowing; I
intuitively knew my graceless touches were sensuous to you. The most intense
lust I felt on you was during the times when we slept next to each other: I
wanted to take the whole of you and passionately make love to your flesh and
blood and bones and marrow, exhausting every iota of your body. Now, after
feeling such primal desire, wouldn’t I cripple my passionate indulgence by
connecting with you like an ascetic cow? What bigger a betrayal can I do to
myself? It is not in my nature to nurture a crippled connection; sail in
shallow waters.
Why bother writing this letter, I
asked myself. Apart from the joy in expressing my passionate feelings, there
are two prime reasons to communicate all these honest, and occasionally
indecent, thoughts to you. First: I see you transcend as a person when you’re
with me, and that delights me. Sometimes you lose yourself completely in our
conversations, which is rare in
one’s life. Like I said, your
potentially-rich soul shines when you connect with me. Second: I felt and still
feel you’re attracted to me—both physically and mentally. How do I know this? I
have seen your eyes, and they tell me things. I have been seeing your eyes from
the time I was with you in your friend’s home. In fact, your eyes tell me a lot
more than your voice does.
There exists a beautiful
chemistry between us, as our companionship is based on respect, curiosity, and
honesty. So, I want to delve deeper and explore different shades of such a
substantial companionship. If you do too, then I’ll continue my indulgence with
you. Else, I will walk away like a spectre. Goodbye.
A.h
