"I don't know what, but I..definitely..must write.
I'm not sure why I am having such supreme difficulties in putting things into words, these days. Certainly, this is not any kind of problem I have encountered in any substantial way in the past.
How do I get there? How did I always get there? How did I force my mouth open in the past?...when ...I'd say what I felt..and..it was part of what made her fall in love with me?
How did I do that?
By saying to myself, ""fuck it, I have nothing to lose...I have nothing, so I have nothing to lose,"" then just let fall out of me whatever it was wanted to fall outta me, then think to myself, ""and if, somehow, those things that fell outta me, someday, gain me something to lose, well then, cool.""
That's how I answered that very first letter from her, after all - and I damn sure was not looking to gain her.
Exactly like that.
Certainly, in mid-May, I did not have anything to lose, least of all..her.
And even though, now, it seems so, still, I am afraid to think it.
However, that staying silent bit has not been my preface and paradigm to this point; has not been what has given me all the beauty I've thus far discovered.
Laughing..seems silly to change anything, now.
Just 'cause someone loves me this way.
Still. It seems I've said all the words I can. It really does.
Now, there just are no more words that are not redundant; no more paragraphs that are not repetitive.
There's is just John Williams' mournful music from Schindler's List, coincidentally playing as I type.
And her.
And those ""I love you"" words.
***
Anyway.
What inspired this?
""Wouldn't you rather have someone you could fuck as if she were six? or eight?""
It sure is what I always thought, yes. It really, really, really is.
And yes, somehow, there is something about..the paradigm... younger/older, littler/bigger, naive/knowing, bare/furry...that is always, always, always going to move me. I thought it was the deepest part of me, though, the most core, the most indestructible and permanent: my only touchstone.
I never fucking saw you coming, though, baby - you blindsided the fuck outta me.
I don't know. It just never, ever occurred to me that something could exist at a level lower, or higher, however one looks at it, than that stuff, there, than that eight year old cunt, self. The best I'd ever hoped for was a peaceful coexistence of love with that stuff, never imagining something or someone might be more important.
Or could be.
No wonder it shakes me so. No wonder at your disbelief, considering my own.
Now, Secret Garden is playing.
Never thought it would look like this. Never knew these kinds of flowers could ever grow here. I really fucking didn't. No wonder I can't believe my senses.
There's nothing else to say. There's just I love you.
I never imagined, and I gotta fuckin tell you, I got no idea what I ever did to deserve it.
But k. That is all."