I wrote this a few weeks after I sent you my three-page letter- I hope it can clear a few things up. I had meant send it to you sooner, but I convinced myself that it would have been better for you just to have some more space- but I don't see what further harm it would be to send this to you now.
Let me explain:
If there was ever a time that I believed that I loved you –in flesh and blood— I was mistaken. I never loved you- the corporeal You, yet I loved either the person I hoped was beneath the mask or the person you could become. I fell in love with a figment of my imagination that you were never a part of and it was to our mutual misfortune that I did not perceive this.
All the suffering that I withstood was because I failed to realize that you were never “there” for me to love. I did it to myself- and I am sorry that I had to drag you into this and ended it the way I did with my letter. But in the two weeks hence, I have had some time to think things over and I have concluded that I have not been fair to you.
Firstly: it is unlikely that you knew the extent of my feelings and this is certainly my fault, I intentionally made them seem less significant than they were in vain hopes of not scaring you away. In this way I could still be friends with you and still love “you” at the same time- this did not work. I should have been more forthright and risked dejection- it would have been better than this.
Secondly: I was angered that you did not perceive my emotions and interpreted this as a silent rejection. There was nothing there from the beginning and it was for this reason that I scorned you in writing. I have accused you of silence, I have accused you of coldness and neglect and all it has been unjust and ungrounded.
Finally: I have mistaken the (for the lack of a better term) real you for the “you” that existed only in my mind and whom I have fallen in love with. “You” were a puppet for my affections and nothing else. There was nothing between us- there was only me and my misplaced feelings from the beginning.
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