I Wish I Could Tell You - Letter 02

[To the readers: I unfortunately have to tell you that this letter isn't a sexy one. It's a romantic one of thoughts for my sir that could never be told except here in anonymity. So I'll save you the time and tell you to move on if this sort of thing doesn't interest you. Or you can read because maybe, once upon a time, you've felt the same about someone and wish to commiserate.]

Dear Sir,

There are many times when I stop talking or I slip into silence. It's not that I have nothing to say. It's that I have so much to say that I know I shouldn't. I have to stop myself. Breathe and close my eyes so that the tumultuous feelings storming and brewing inside of me have time to calm. Or perhaps so that I can push them down deep enough that they aren't threatening to spill over and ruin everything.

And I do so worry about destroying this tenuous thing that we have. It balances on a precipice of duty and responsibility behind and that thrilling jump towards the unknown adventure upon which I wish we could embark. It calls to me like a Siren's song, inviting and tempting yet just as risky. To listen would be to throw caution to the wind and crash our boats on the rocky shore when all I want for you is happiness.

So I pull myself together and write out my desires, casting them into the vast ocean instead. Selfishly, I long for you to find one of my messages in a bottle. Would you recognize me, I wonder? Would you read one and understand the depths of yearning I have for you? Or would you smile in amusement and find my words naive and foolish?

Sometimes, I think you might understand or sympathize, maybe even feel the same. But then a part of me wonders how much of that is just an imprint of my own needs onto you. How much of it is truth or am I only reading things between the lines that aren't really there because I've convinced myself that you might feel the same? I'm so desperate for something tangible that this could indeed be make believe.

Yet there are even occasions when your words or actions hit so close to the truth of what I'm feeling that I can't bring myself to actually accept that possibility. The thought of you having these same passions is something I crave so much that if I was wrong, I would feel shattered. And I already feel so fragile as it is. So I laugh and dance away, because the fear of being alone in my needs is too much to bear.

You think I'm strong but I've only ever been made to feel weak and less than worthy by everyone else. And I am. Where you perhaps see perseverance, I see merely the only path left to take if I were to survive. That's nothing to raise your glass to. There is no achievement there, only the knowledge that my vessel has weathered the storms, battered but not wrecked. But you have endured far more and continue to do so. Who am I to think myself deserving of you?

I hunger for you anyways. It's a never-ending pressure in my chest that steals my breath away even in those moments where I didn't realize I was even thinking about you. Though I always am. The second my lashes flutter open and life wakes me from my fantasy dreams of you, I wonder: Is my Sir awake? Is he thinking of me too? My day continues and no matter the circumstance, my thoughts always drift back to you. You are a constant presence here in my mind, a warmth that keeps me smiling when I normally would not. And when I lay in bed at night, spent and trembling from the thoughts of your hands on my body, I spill my thoughts here onto digital paper.

The words flow too easily. They've been caged inside for so long that they have begged me to be let free. They may not be elegant and they may not always be sweet. My feelings rarely are. So finally, in these evenings when I have little control left to hold them captive, they burst out and break through, raw and unabashed. They depict inadequately the depths of my love for you because words cannot ever properly describe what you mean to me.

While I sit here and write, I still ache. I crave to feel your cheek beneath the palm of my hand and your cock inside me as I sit in your lap, filling me and driving away every doubt I've ever had. I imagine how soft your lips would feel when you smile against mine and how content I know I would be with your arms holding me tight. I would give almost anything for even the smallest and most innocent of touches. But I can't. Instead, I will end this letter and lay my head on my pillow. I look forward to when sleep takes me and I can lose myself in dreams of you.

- Your Not So Good Girl