Cordula,

I enjoyed our drink the other night as well. Receiving your letter did not surprise nor affront me. To me it felt closer to flattery or honor. I felt the connection between us. In that you are not alone.

It is not an easy letter to send, yet it is an easy letter to receive. Thank you for your boldness. I would have never been able to speak as you have. It feels nice to know of the affection someone has found for you. Before I can discuss what may come of these feelings between us, I first will give my response to your request for advice. I think it will become evident why I'm choosing to start there.

I have felt feelings like the ones you expressed once before. Companionship out of need. A need to love. A need to be with. A need to feel. I can't speak to how you get rid of these kinds of feelings, because on that account I failed miserably.

In fact, I still fail.

I can speak to what happens when you get what you need and then lose it.

Part of you dies with their loss.

Part of you dies with their loss. You were worried you bared too much of your soul in your letter. How about this? I am not whole. Part of me has died. It cannot be found, resurrected or made undead. It is annihilated and I will never be full again.

You speak of needing me to feel complete. Imagine if you gained wholeness and then lost it. Not only that. I am not able to give the wholeness of myself to you. I cannot give to you what I will now always lack.

I say these things, these terrible things, because this is the game we play. The risk we would take if we were to see where our feelings could go.

All that to say, I'm willing. Cautious, but willing. You must be warned. I will not conceal who I am from you. Who I truly am is jarring, mysterious, and infuriating. If we're going to try this, I see no point in elongating the inevitable through masks of deceit.

Cautious but Curious,

Ameila