No Longer Do I Miss You (IV)

Do come visit us in the evening, dear readers, because even if we lived forever like mountain firs, we'd still have a love letter to read to you on each visit! What can we do, that's just how we are, scatterbrained, because for their sake, we cried so many nights in a row, always trying not to love them anymore; out of longing for them, we've lost life's thread, and we can no longer find peace...

And yet, we no longer miss them, why should we miss them, isn't that right, dear Ioana? Only these letters might still miss them. And at night, when they softly sigh, but sleep no longer comes – maybe they're crying, but they don't miss them not even them!

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„You are the second boy my soul compels me to write to. I only write when enough has accumulated inside me, and since the thought of doing something like this pleasantly surprised me two years ago, I neither wanted nor was able to dedicate letters of this kind to anyone else. Because it seems far too intimate and special to offer to just anyone; that way, it would lose its value. Plus, in the absence of this inner motor that gives me no peace when activated, the writings would have turned out false and wouldn't have exceeded three lines of tormented words.

I tell you honestly, I didn't want this letter matter to be repeatable, applicable to another person as well. Until recently, I kept my dear story with the letters in my memory like a treasure from other times, a romance that knows neither time nor space, and only floats dreamily in the hope that one day, perhaps...

But it turns out it couldn't be, and now, today, I felt compelled to write to you, after having wondered many times if I would ever feel the need to do it again. And this thing, I must admit, if it doesn't scare me, at least it completely disorients me.

I've felt many things for you throughout this year, things of very different intensities, which, if I were to put them on a graph, would look like a person's pulse after running for two days. Anyway...

What I feel now is very hard to explain. One might say it has passed, and yet my heart still skips a beat when I see you, and my eyes still dart to you, and every time I intend to come tell you something, I feel soft and immobilized like a candle melted by the heat of its own flame” – upon text analysis, I observe a leitmotif Banician – the melted candle. Profound theological connotations, once again. With what delicacy God brings us to Him!

„You have no idea how many things I told myself I would tell you, and when the moment came, on the rare occasions when we happened to be together, everything froze inside me. All my resolve, all my courage and iron conviction had fled far, far away from me, lest I somehow manage to bring them back! And then, there's also the fact that I absolutely don't want to make you feel uncomfortable” – that's why I'm writing you a love letter, hello, didn't you get it?! What could be uncomfortable about that?!„You don't have to feel indebted to me for anything because of this letter. I expect nothing in return; even your silence is an answer, one still too powerful. Don't feel obligated to give me explanations...” – I'm just the crazy one who, out of nowhere, without any explanation, gives you an envelope with love letters!

„It seems fantastic to me that I find myself in this state again, in this thirst to write! Thank you, thank you enormously for bringing me back here, although you are certainly as puzzled as I am, and you don't understand how you did it. It pains me that I couldn't tell you any of these things to your face... Simply put, you put me in a state of total awkwardness when I meet you, and it's very rare for someone to throw me off track like this...

I'm ashamed of the shame I anticipate I would cause you by coming to sit with you when you're with other colleagues or friends, so I resign myself and choose to abandon the mission, boiling for the rest of the day in «what if...?». I want you to know many things about yourself” – things that, as I was telling you in a previous episode, were rather about me, about my perception, and not so much about him – “good things that I foresee, even though in reality I truly know almost nothing about who you are.

And look, the bottom of the page is chasing me again – I can't stand this tension much longer!

You are a terribly pleasant person to a foreign eye. A tall man, with round, black eyes, from which radiates the typical youthful energy of a world conqueror. From where I look, you seem terrifyingly complex. I don't know how much you let that show. And in this case, I hope this curiosity that is you doesn't kill the cat!

You have such a beautiful voice – your voice is like the mountains, like the dark green of coniferous forests, like the cold rock and yet so welcoming, so protective, despite the imposing, sober presence.

And when you look at me, I truly feel blessed to be able to have your attention, even if only for a few seconds... But maybe I'm mistaken and it all just seems that way to me, and you're actually staring into space. If so, tell me, and I'll withdraw my sympathy as soon as possible! I promise!”

* * *

This was the confession of my love letters... If you're wondering how much..., know that things are about this much...! I hope I haven't scared you too much either. And, if I have scared you, well, know that even a good fright is welcome, even recommended from time to time! Lest we get bored!

Perhaps you've noticed that I'm talking about the boys whom I loved, and not whom loved me in return… Love does not seek its own (1 Corinthians 13: 5). Believe me, you don't have to receive anything in return from people to be given to give... Someone else fills the soul with 100 plus love, of inverted, infinite octane number... So give with confidence, the Lord Director takes care to put back, and immeasurably more than we can bear!

Enough, I'll calm down, I've fallen silent, otherwise people will say that I'm inciting fearless love and a life lived like a story, and God forbid! Who, me?! But when, ever?! Far be it from me to think such a thing!

(Shh, don't let anyone hear me: Invite her to the park! Take his hand! Put flowers in her hair! Look into his eyes until you become one with them! Don't prepare so much – your little umbrella won't hold up against the hurricane that will hit you anyway! Take the envelope with letters from his hand and then watch her leave, skipping like a kid...

Years will pass, and in time, when you remember, you will laugh. What checkmated you then will terribly amuse you very soon. You don't need to know. You just need to believe. Allow yourself to believe! Don't be afraid. There are always others crazier than you ‒ sometimes we write letters!

In the name of all madmen in love, led by the Fools for Christ, love!!!)

P.S.: Oh yes, and listen to Ioana Radu too!

Ana Bănică