SaturnDay 15.2, Cold Season,
19:40 dark, Letter 2
Dear Anchor
Well, we’ve never spoken since. It hurts. It hurts because I feel empty. Like an infatuated schoolboy, I suppose, in love with his school teacher, sort of pining for her to recognize him. Touch down deep. I am so restless and yearn for that soul-to-soul, mind-to-mind communion. But you are afraid, just as I am. Can it be controlled? How much radioactive mind matter can be lumped together before critical-mass explosiveness powders the whole?
I’ve so many questions. Why are you being so selfish and withholding your light? By understanding you, sister, I understand myself. Do you fear what others will think and judge? You said you fear, commitment, I know you really fear intimacy . Yet you couldn’t use that word. It was too intimate itself. Do you fear an obsession? I acknowledge the dangers of our friendship, but all great things involve a degree of risk. We must use caution. It has been 20 days since first contact. I’m being patient waiting for you to give a signal. I push towards you and you back away. One magnet has reversed polarity. Overcautious? Safety? You tremble with indecision. Anxiousness, where there should be peace.
For some reason, I’ve discussed these feelings more freely with others than with you. I know the day will come when your fear will ebb away and we can play like children on the beach.
A few more thoughts; I, too, fear our relationship will turn corrupt as happened to you several times before. I understand your reluctance. And, I even understand why you opened up the first time. You took an awful big risk with reckless abandon. It was an experiment. You made contact with a spirit, intelligence; sympathetic, non-judgmental, unconditional. “Ah, yes,” you thought, “What if I blast him with the naked self? Will he turn and run as others have? Or will he accept me? Can I reel him in? Attracted or repelled?
That is why, later on, you said, “Well, I guess I really opened a can of worms, huh?” Ho, ho. A can of worms for you, dear sister.
For you, not for me. That you hadn’t planned on. My mind can synchronize with yours and amplify. The experience was as draining on you as it was on me. What is unfortunate is I’ve told others about my experience and you have bottled it up. You debate, “Will this strengthen me or weaken me? Have I opened Pandora’s Box?” All this commotion is inside you. For me, I shared the commotion with others, asking them what they think and what they would do. I know what you’re thinking, “How could he!? I trusted him with my innards, has he no sense of propriety? Doesn’t he know not to spread around something sacred? Are my fragile fabrics so trivial to him?”
The answer is I only spoke to them of how I felt and didn’t reveal anything to them that’d harm you. In fact, I spoke of my respect and admiration for you, now I know who you really are. I never liked the fake you. You are a good actress. But then you started at a very young age.
You are wondering “He said he wants more of my honey? How can he be so vulgar? What does he really mean?” Okay, I’ll answer. Maybe nourishment would be a better word. But, none the less, you are sweet to me. I began to accept myself more as I accepted you. The more I learn and accept, the stronger, more confident I become.
Mind-blood transfusion. Shared strength. You’ll never know how much it means to find someone with the same handicaps, characteristics, mindset, and yearnings. That’s what I mean by honey. Now, I know the intimacy (yes, I know you don’t want me to use that word, but accept it.) Anyway, intimacy we shared on Day 25 will probably never be as powerful again. I’m not disappointed.
[Note: Driver sent letter #2. It never arrived.]
Love- Driver