----Original Message Follows----
From: "travelling in elephants" /firstname.lastname@example.org/
Subject: Perfect Trust
Date: Sun, 20 Jan 2002 01:18:06 -0500
I write this now, knowing it will probably never reach you (unless, by some strange twist
of the universe, I hit 'Send' out of habit instead of the 'Save Draft' I intend to
I know, I know, it's strange for me to be thinking of you now, seven months after the
last time we have spoken, after I had put you from my mind. But I can repress
memories only so long. They are like my tears -- I can hold them back for a little
while, but sooner or later they flood down my cheeks in great, heaving sobs.
I was digging around in my closet for a purple dress -- I wonder idly now if you've ever
seen it, or if it has been that long lost -- and discovered an old tin of notes from
the Time Before High School. The Time Before I Really Knew You. I read them over,
most of them in my own hand, never sent just like _this_ letter, marvelling at the
stupidity of youth. And now, I am realising slowly that the stupidity of youth
carries itself over into old age if one does not learn.
And I haven't learned. You're the proof of that. After all, had I been willing to
compromise a little more, to drag out what small disservice I had done you in order
to put things right between us again, things might have been very different.
Understand that all my life, I have been the one compromising and compromising. I have
compromised myself away for all the good it's done! There comes a point when I can
no longer tolerate it, and must lash out.
And things had already become different between us. There was a great rift rushing
between us, growing more dark and violent with every day. It seemed you no longer
needed me, no longer wanted me. And I had issues of my own to cope with, although I
am not sure you are very familiar with them. They came so quickly just before our
time ended, and you were so absorbed with TJ, so lost in that bond that only
insomniacs can share.
Oh. We were so close at one point, you and I. I don't know what stood in our way.
Life, I suppose. It's always had a funny way of doing that. Throughout my entire
life, I have always thought I had a best friend, but I cannot recollect having one as
loving as you. The rest were all merely acquaintances compared to the bond you and I
I may not always have told you everything, but I hesitate to share myself with anyone.
Too many times betrayed, I think. I was nearly there with you. Had we had just a
few more months, I might've told you anything. Hell, I might already have. You
never needed me to tell you outright -- you knew me better than myself.
I long for what we had (as if that weren't apparent enough in the way I've already
rambled on). Alaina is probably the nearest thing I have to a close friend, and she
is sweet. We are able to carry on long, intelligent conversations. But she is
constantly trying to sound like the brighter one, whether she realises it or not, and
makes the rest of us feel like morons. I find myself trying to belittle her more and
more, ridiculing her beliefs, her passions. She does not think like I do, most
likely because of difference of very basic beliefs. Did you know she doesn't believe
There is no one else here, except for maybe Carol. But I will not burden her with my
being. She has it tough enough as it is. I am lonely, and these last few months
have been hard. Knowing that you are singular in the universe, with no one to turn
to... it's difficult to get through a day, but for taking it minute by minute.
Promising yourself you won't do anything drastic, because at any time, someone might
prove you wrong and touch your soul, keeping it for a few moments in their capable
My friends, for once, expect nothing of me except to provide their next big laugh, to be
no deeper than the articles in a dirty magazine. It is nice to know only good times,
but it grows wearisome not to discuss more heavy matters from time to time.
You know not of my life. Not now. Even if somehow, we could overlook this silent chasm
that yawns over these past seven months, ignoring the problems from even before all
that, I'm not sure we'd know how to fit into each other's lives anymore.
I loved you. I'm not sure if that emotion still applies. I know I still love the time
we spent together, and wish it could have been longer.
I miss you. I miss you, but I would never allow myself to say that to you. I will wait
for you to come to me, so that we can both fall over ourselves to apologise and
forgive. And that is why I will probably never see you again.
My only hope is chance.
["One day, you'll ask me to speak of the truth, of the miracle of your birth, to explain
what is unexplained. And if I falter or fail on this day, know there is an answer,
my child, a sacred, imperishable truth, but one you may never hope to find alone.
Chance meeting your perfect other, your perfect opposite, your protector and
endangerer. Chance embarking with this other on the greatest of journeys -- a search
for truths fugitive and imponderable. If one day this chance may befall you, my son,
do not fail or falter to seize it. The truths are out there. And if one day you
should behold a miracle, as I have in you, you will learn the truth is not found in
science or on some unseen plane, but by looking into your own heart. And in that
moment you will be blessed... and stricken... for the truest truths are what hold us
together or keep us painfully, desperately apart." - DS, 'Trust No 1']