It gives me a quaint feeling to discourse with you through a letter. I take immense pleasure in writing to you. Just like our beautiful conversations, I shall keep this pithy. Nothing said here is frivolous or facetious, and my intentions are honest, and sometimes brutally and crudely honest.
Emotions are a tricky business to me. It took me a long time to get comfortable with them, and even longer to express them. The fact that I am laying my emotions bare makes me feel full and peaceful. A totally unexpected event happened to me last week. This event was not pronounced when it commenced, but as it grew, I realised it was formidable—I am talking about my emotional bond with you. Developing an emotional connection with a person is never my top priority, and the last time I felt such a connection was more than half a decade ago, when I came of age. I almost forgot I can connect emotionally with anyone. Now, the precise reason why I’m writing this letter is that very emotional bond I felt with you. The euphoria from a passionate expression is every hedonist’s dream, and I am pursuing it too.
To continue a platonic relationship with you any further is simply one of the most insincere acts I can commit to myself, for my sexual attraction towards you, coupled with the nascent emotional bond, is raw and animalistic. Except for the times when we were lost in profound conversations, I always wanted to kiss your lips like a veritable scavenger. The times when I massaged you with my tree-trunk hands—kneading your head, nape, cheeks, ears, shoulders, limbs, back, waist—were the moments when my greed to enrapture your senses was overflowing; I intuitively knew my graceless touches were sensuous to you. The most intense lust I felt on you was during the times when we slept next to each other: I wanted to take the whole of you and passionately make love to your flesh and blood and bones and marrow, exhausting every iota of your body. Now, after feeling such primal desire, wouldn’t I cripple my passionate indulgence by connecting with you like an ascetic cow? What bigger a betrayal can I do to myself? It is not in my nature to nurture a crippled connection; sail in shallow waters.
Why bother writing this letter, I asked myself. Apart from the joy in expressing my passionate feelings, there are two prime reasons to communicate all these honest, and occasionally indecent, thoughts to you. First: I see you transcend as a person when you’re with me, and that delights me. Sometimes you lose yourself completely in our conversations, which is rare in one’s life. Like I said, your potentially-rich soul shines when you connect with me. Second: I felt and still feel you’re attracted to me—both physically and mentally. How do I know this? I have seen your eyes, and they tell me things. I have been seeing your eyes from the time I was with you in your friend’s home. In fact, your eyes tell me a lot more than your voice does.
There exists a beautiful chemistry between us, as our companionship is based on respect, curiosity, and honesty. So, I want to delve deeper and explore different shades of such a substantial companionship. If you do too, then I’ll continue my indulgence with you. Else, I will walk away like a spectre. Goodbye.