Dearest…love


 

Dearest,

I feel certain that I am going mad again.  I feel we can’t go through another of those terrible times.  And I shan’t recover this time.  I begin to hear voices, and can’t concentrate.  So, I am doing what seems the best thing to do.  You have given me the greatest possible happiness.  You have been in every way all that anyone could be.  I don’t think two people could have been happier till this terrible disease came.  I can’t fight it any longer.  I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work.  And you will now…I know.  You see I can’t even write this properly.

I can’t read.

What I want to say…is that I owe all the happiness to life to you.  You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good.

I want to say that-

everybody knows it.

If anybody could have saved me it would have been you.

Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness.  I can’t go on spoiling your life any longer.  I don’t think two people could have been happier than we have been.

V.

 

Picture 938
http://www.currier.org/exhibitions/witness-history-james-nachtwey/

What is it….we wouldn’t do for love?

-RandomwordbyRuth

 

Virginia Woolf, prolific creator of all that is written…and, possibly, not written.  Let love’s demons fill her pockets with rocks…and, sadly, left only morsels…of what love could be.

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