June 6th, 2004
Dear Chernon,
A few nights ago I wanted to write you a letter, and
I don't remember exactly what it would have said. Tomorrow you'll
be gone again, and that's why I want to remember everything tonight.
I used to think that Tamahome could hurt me so
much. I lived in fear that he'd meet someone new at college, that
he'd find some other girl prettier or smarter or more interesting than
me. I tried so hard to be perfect and sweet for him.
Now it all seems so silly ~ silly that I thought he
could even hurt me at all. I can't even imagine him hurting me
now, leaving me now. What I felt for him seems so immature, and I
feel trapped as an adult in a marriage that I agreed to as a child.
Yes, I feel trapped. Yes, I want to get
out. I want to be with you.
And the reason that it seems silly that Tamahome
could hurt me is because I can't imagine him hurting me as much as you
can and do - you, the one and only man I've loved as a woman.
Oh, Chernon, maybe I'm not so grown up after
all. Because I find myself wishing I knew just what you want so I
could try to be it. I'm tired to standing strong and feeling like
the only one holding this knowledge and these memories. I want to
lean on you again, I want to cry in your arms. You've humbled me
and broken me again, now let my come into your embrace as a lover and
not as a sister, not a child.
I want to be with you. I would leave Tamahome,
I swear it, if you'd just say the word. Just say anything.
Love,
Mara