A love letter of sorts
To the woman who last had my heart,
My life hasn’t made much sense without you. I feel as though I’m merely existing, not living. That’s not to say I’ve given up on life, rather, you gave a certain sense of purpose to my existence. It’s as though my soul knew that no matter what I would do in the future, I would be happy knowing I was loving a human like you. Isn’t that the whole purpose of life anyway, to love and be loved in return? And my, what a feeling that is. A feeling I was fortunate to experience because of you.
I recall when we first met. Our first two meetings were honest and innocent exchanges between two humans. I enjoyed your company, and you mine. I shared with you intimate details about my past, as you did about yours. A connection formed immediately, and with no other intention than that of friendship. While you were working during our third outing, we exchanged eye contact. Albeit brief, but overwhelmingly powerful. It was at that moment that I felt seen by you; I felt like I was looking at someone who saw me for who I was and likewise, I saw you for the simple human that you are, a human with a longing to be understood. It was at that moment that I knew – fuck, I love this girl. If that wasn’t enough, when you came over to sit with me and my friends, you complimented me on one of my biggest insecurities; my hands. Out of the blue you stated, “You have really nice hands. They look strong.” Hands that would later have the utmost pleasure of massaging you.
Our connection naturally continued to deepen to which I impulsively asked you to meet my parents. Looking back, that was somewhat forward of me, but given my situation and our limited time together, it made sense to me and it still makes sense to me. Before meeting my parents though, I wanted you to meet my Oma primarily because I seemingly thought she was more accepting of my sexuality at the time. And boy, did she love you. You took an interest in her, much like you do with everyone you meet, that was refreshing and heart-warming for her. Her face lit up with the questions you asked, the interest you showed, and the compassion you shared. She loved you immediately. When we left hers after a cuppa, she closed the door and muttered, “Good for you Nicole. Good for you.” An externalised statement of approval.
Now to my parents. Given your background, you refused to show up empty-handed and offered to purchase a bottle of wine to go with the venison we were to eat at dinner. Knowing my Dad and his wine-snobiness, I quickly exclaimed it was a risky move. You embraced the challenge. When you showed up and offered the bottle of wine in thanks, a twinkle sparkled in my Dad’s eyes, “This is a really good bottle of wine and will go perfectly with dinner.” Well, you were in with my Dad. Now to my Mum. I was somewhat nervous about this interaction, only because I knew to date my Mum had mildly struggled to accept me dating women. Although, I suspected it had more to do with the women I had been dating and less with me actually dating women. You both hit it off. Conversation didn’t stop. My Mum’s body mannerisms changed immediately; she relaxed for the first time in years. She felt comfortable. She felt herself. She felt seen. This was the first time I had seen anyone interact with her on this level. And with my Dad too. My Dad, who I have always believed is the smartest man I knew, you were able to keep up with everything he was talking about. And even challenged him. I recall sitting there, astonished. What the fuck just happened. I felt intimidated. And that’s not a feeling I have experienced too often. I joke now about you being the daughter they wish they had because of your ability to talk about the things they were passionate about, things that I have struggled to take an interest in. One interaction, that’s all it took. My family adored you. And they still do.
Throughout the time we were seeing each other, I truly believe we brought out the best in each other. You balanced me and I you. I have an old soul, you have a young soul. You challenged me. You respected me. You took an interest in me. You made time for me. You brought out selfless love in me. You listened to me. And for you, I recall you stating that you had never felt more at peace within yourself than when in my presence. I understood you. I cherished you. I revered you. And revered you for who you are, not for what you did or what you could do for me. My love for you was, and will always be, independent of your profession. I learnt a lot from you. I grew with you. Many of my former insecurities dissipated within your presence because of the security you provided. You offered comfort. You offered a safe environment. An environment in which I could, and was, completely vulnerable in. There were times when I was able to override instinctive responses out of mere respect and admiration for you; I didn’t want to hurt you given how much I cared about you. You continually challenged me and bettered me as a human, qualities I aspire to obtain in all of my relationships. Qualities that are scarce. Conflicts were confronted with love, compassion, and understanding. Conflicts were then resolved, or at the very least, reduced, because of this admiration for one another.
Our situations were challenging, but handled, for the most part, with grace. When you met someone, I challenged myself to be the friend you needed and not the controlling individual with invested feelings. I stepped outside of my feelings and encouraged you to explore this connection, something that broke me. But also something that brought out the best in me. The best in me being selfless love for you. A love I was yet to experience with anyone else. A love I strive to live by.
I accept the difficulty in reading such a letter given how things unfolded. It is somewhat of a paradox you see, for my heart disconnected, yet I am still completely taken by you. I have speculated on numerous occasions as to why my heart did what it did, but to no solace. Was it the pain I had already experienced? Was it the sudden freedom you were soon to experience? Was it the timing? Was it the distance? Was it me needing to be alone to figure my shit out? Was it none of the above? Who knows. I sure don’t. And I have struggled with this uncertainty, this lack of clarity, for months now. I have been tormented over it. I am coming to accept though, that there are certain things we might never understand. And that is okay. But I cannot and will not accept continuing to live without expressing my heart’s feelings.
I have found myself fantasizing about loving you. Projecting former experiences into the future. Visiting Tuscany. Travelling. Watching you work. Helping you. Loving you. Cherishing you. Challenging you. Growing with you. Working out with you. My heart swarms with warmth at the thought of taking care of you, something I vouched to do after meeting you. I wanted to be strong for you, to provide an environment in which you didn’t have to feel “on” and could be your complete and entire self, an environment I successfully provided but then seemingly destroyed by disconnecting. I recall mentioning that my favourite version of you was first thing in the morning. No make-up. No distractions. Nothing but you. You in your most vulnerable form. You in your most authentic off form. A form I have loved wholeheartedly without reservation.
I have had friends talk of such love, a love that they cannot seemingly let go of and move on from. I suspect, my dear, this is the love I have for you. I am stuck. I am stuck not because I envision we will end up together, but because I am not sure I want to move on. You are a fantastic person to be stuck on. Do I wish my fantasies become a reality? Why of course. But logistically, I don’t suppose it is probable. I am stuck because I realise it is rare to form such a connection with another being. Connections that not only speak to the mind, but to the soul and the heart; the trilogy. That kind of connection my friends, is rare. And that, I believe, is the connection I shared with you. I am not willing, then, to let go of this connection. To let go of you.
Why am I sharing this? Because I might die tomorrow. And I want to die knowing that I have loved and loved as authentically as I could have. And loved without regrets. To have loved with my heart open and free, not trapped inside, stifled by words I was too scared to express.
So to the woman who last had my heart; you, my dear, still have my heart. If nothing else comes of this, I know with conviction that I have loved and been loved in return. I have loved you in the most authentic, innocent, and rawest form that one human can love another. I have loved you without reservation. I have loved you wholeheartedly. I have loved you without regret. I have loved you without condition. And I will, independent of future interactions, continue to do so.
With much peace, love, and compassion,
The girl who gave her whole heart to you,