angel

ab hamari galti kya hain?

Find what you love and let it kill you.

Let it drain you of your all.

Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness.

Let it kill you and let it devour your remains.

For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it's much better to be killed by a lover."

October 17, 1946

D’Arline,

I adore you, sweetheart.

I know how much you like to hear that — but I don’t only write it because you like it — I write it because it makes me warm all over inside to write it to you.

It is such a terribly long time since I last wrote to you — almost two years but I know you’ll excuse me because you understand how I am, stubborn and realistic; and I thought there was no sense to writing.

But now I know my darling wife that it is right to do what I have delayed in doing, and that I have done so much in the past. I want to tell you I love you. I want to love you. I always will love you.

I find it hard to understand in my mind what it means to love you after you are dead — but I still want to comfort and take care of you — and I want you to love me and care for me. I want to have problems to discuss with you — I want to do little projects with you. I never thought until just now that we can do that. What should we do. We started to learn to make clothes together — or learn Chinese — or getting a movie projector. Can’t I do something now? No. I am alone without you and you were the “idea-woman” and general instigator of all our wild adventures.

When you were sick you worried because you could not give me something that you wanted to and thought I needed. You needn’t have worried. Just as I told you then there was no real need because I loved you in so many ways so much. And now it is clearly even more true — you can give me nothing now yet I love you so that you stand in my way of loving anyone else — but I want you to stand there. You, dead, are so much better than anyone else alive.

I know you will assure me that I am foolish and that you want me to have full happiness and don’t want to be in my way. I’ll bet you are surprised that I don’t even have a girlfriend (except you, sweetheart) after two years. But you can’t help it, darling, nor can I — I don’t understand it, for I have met many girls and very nice ones and I don’t want to remain alone — but in two or three meetings they all seem ashes. You only are left to me. You are real.

My darling wife, I do adore you.

I love my wife. My wife is dead.

Rich.

and dreaming is the only way to remember.

And I, despite myself, am sleepy.

Someone has been impersonating my account and has phished people and scammed them.

I did nothing wrong and I can attest to that fact. I also believe that whatever happens is bound to happen.

This place is has been a haven for me and my thoughts, and a place where I can share literature I adore. It was nice knowing you all and I wish you all the best.

(I sound so dramatic but I'm just in my feels lmao)

love yall and stay hydrated divas

Always. Continuously.

With increasing apprehension, and decreasing hope.

I will love you with no regard to the actions of

our enemies or the jealousies of actors. I will

love you with no regard to the outrage of certain parents or the boredom of certain friends.

I will love you no matter what is served in the world's

cafeterias or what game is played at each and every recess.

I will love you no matter how many fire drills we are all forced to endure,

and no matter what is drawn upon the blackboard in a

blurring, boring chalk.

I will love you no matter how many mistakes I make when trying to

reduce fractions, and no matter how difficult it is

to memorize the periodic table. I will love you no

matter what your locker combination was, or

how you decided to spend your time during

study hall.

I will love you no matter how your

soccer team performed in the tournament or

how many stains I received on my cheerleading uniform.

I will love you if I never see you again,

and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday,

I will love you if you cut your hair and I will love

you if you cut the hair of others. I will love you if

you abandon your baticeering, and I will love you

if you retire from the theater to take up some

other, less dangerous occupation. I will love you

if you drop your raincoat on the floor instead of

hanging it up and I will love you if you betray

your father. I will love you even if you announce

that the poetry of Edgar Guest is the best in the

world and even if you announce that the work of

Zilpha Keatley Snyder is unbearably tedious.

I will love you if you abandon the theremin and

take up the harmonica and I will love you if you

donate vour marmosets to the zoo and your tree frogs to M.

I will love you as the starfish loves a

coral reef and as kudzu loves trees, even if the

oceans turn to sawdust and the trees fall in the forest without anyone around to hear them.

I will love you as the pesto loves the fetuccini and as

the horseradish loves the miyagi, as the tempura

loves the ikura and the pepperoni loves the

pizza.

I will love you as the manatee loves the

head of lettuce and as the dark spot loves the leopard,

as the leech loves the ankle of a wader

and as a corpse loves the beak of the vulture,

I will love you as the doctor loves his sickest

patient and a lake loves its thirstiest swimmer.

I will love you as the beard loves the chin, and thecrumbs love the beard,

and the damp napkin

loves the crumbs, and the precious document

loves the dampness in the napkin, and the

squinting eye of the reader loves the smudged print of the document,

and the tears of sadness love the squinting eye as it misreads what is written.

I will love you as the iceberg loves the

ship, and the passengers love the lifeboat, and

the lifeboat loves the teeth of the sperm whale,

and the sperm whale loves the flavor of naval

uniforms.

I will love you as a child loves to overhear the conversations of its parents,

and the parents love the sound of their own arguing voices,

and as the pen loves to write down the

words these voices utter in a notebook for

safekeeping.

I will love you as a shingle loves

falling off a house on a windy day and striking a grumpy person across the chin,

and as an oven loves malfunctioning in the middle of roasting a turkey.

I will love you as an airplane loves to fall

from a clear blue sky and as an escalator loves

to entangle expensive scarves in its mechanisms.

I will love you as a wet paper towel

loves to be crumpled into a ball and thrown at a

bathroom ceiling and an eraser loves to leave

dust in the hairdos of the people who talk too much.

I will love you as a cufflink loves to drop

from its shirt and explore the party for itself and

as a pair of white gloves loves to slip delicately

into the punchbowl.

I will love you as a taxi loves

the muddy splash of a puddle and as a library

loves the patient tick of a clock.

I will love vou as

a thief loves a gallery and as a crow loves a

murder,

as a cloud loves bats and as a range loves braes.

I will love you as misfortune loves

orphans,

as fire loves innocence and as justice

loves to sit and watch while everything goes

wrong.

I will love you as a battlefield loves young

men and as peppermints love your allergies, and

I will love you as the banana peel loves the shoe

of a man who was just struck by a shingle falling

off a house. I will love you as a volunteer fire

department loves rushing into burning buildings

and as burning buildings love to chase them

back out, and as a parachute loves to leave a

blimp and as a blimp operator loves to chase

after it.

I will love you as a dagger loves a certain

person's back, and as a certain person loves to wear daggerproof tunics,

and as a daggerproof tunic loves to go to a certain dry cleaning facility,

and how a certain employee of a dry cleaning

facility loves to stay up late with a pair of

binoculars, watching a dagger factory for hours

in the hopes of catching a burglar, and as a

burglar loves sneaking up behind people with

binoculars, suddenly realizing that she has left

her dagger at home. I will love you as a drawer

loves a secret compartment, and as a secret

compartment loves a secret, and as a secret

loves to make a person gasp, and as a gasping

person loves a glass of brandy to calm their

nerves, and as a glass of brandy loves to shatter

on the floor, and as the noise of glass shattering

loves to make someone else gasp, and as

someone else gasping loves a nearby desk to

lean against, even if leaning against it presses a

lever that loves to open a drawer and reveal a

secret compartment. I will love you until all such

compartments are discovered and opened, and

until all the secrets have gone gasping into the

world. I will love you until all the codes and

hearts have been broken and until every

anagram and egg has been unscrambled.

I will love you until every fire is extinguished and until

every home is rebuilt form the handsomest and

most susceptible of woods, and until every

criminal is handcuffed by the laziest of

policemen.

I will love you until M. hates snakes

and J. hates grammar,

and I will love you until C. realizes S. is not worthy of his love

and N. realizes he is not worthy of the V.

I will love you until the bird hates a nest and the worm hates

an apple, and until the apple hates a tree and the

tree hates a nest, and until a bird hates a tree

and an apple hates a nest,

although honestly I cannot imagine that last occurrence no matter how hard I try.

I will love you as we grow older,

which has just happened, and has happened

again, and happened several days ago,

continuously, and then several years before that,

and will continue to happen as the spinning

hands of every clock and the flipping pages of

every calendar mark the passage of time, except

for the clocks that people have forgotten to wind

and the calendars that people have forgotten to

place in a highly visible area. I will love you as

we find ourselves farther and farther from one

another, where once we were so close that we

could slip the curved straw, and the long, slender

spoon, between our lips and fingers respectively

I will love you until the chances of us running

into one another slip from skim to zero, and until

your face is fogged by distant memory, and your

memory faced by distant fog, and your fog

memorized by a distant face, and your distance

distanced by the memorized memory of a foggy fog.

I will love you no matter where you go and

who you see, no matter where you avoid and

who you don't see, and no matter who sees you

avoiding where you go. I will love you no matter

what happens to you, and no matter how I

discover what happens to you, and no matter

what happens to me as I discover this, and no

matter how l am discovered after what happens

to me happens to me as I am discovering this.

I will love you if you don't marry me. I will love you

if you marry someone else - your co-star,

perhaps, or Y., or even O., or anyone Z. through A., even R.

although sadly I believe it will be quite

some time before two women can be allowed to

marry - and I will love you if you have a child,

and I will love you if you have two children, or

three children, or even more, although I

personally think three is plenty, and I will love

you if you never marry at all, and never have

children, and spend your years wishing you had

married me after all, and I must say that on late,

cold nights I prefer this scenario out of all the

scenarios I have mentioned.

That, Beatrice, is

how I will love you even as the world goes on its