Dearest B___________,
I have found that I am lacking in the strength to shake off this odious thought that has burdened my mind, I have tried dear friend to commit my thoughts to paper but this exercise seems like such a waste; after all we are separated by an ocean and our lives have taken us into two divergent directions. I wonder sometimes, if the words disgorged from my mouth are considered as banal as I fear they are; some charms might exist in these voluminous discourses but I feel that they might be much more infrequent then I would care to admit. Gaiety is not a sprit currently roaming across my furrowed brow, I feel only a heaviness of thought weighing on my mind, such troubled times I now find myself in.
It is my own arrogance that has caused the folly that has seemed to befall me, and I am grateful that these many months later you are not reminding me of the warning you had originally voiced. Yours was not the only council I bade away in my foolishness, but the ruin that I have reigned myself to could have been avoided if only I opened my ears to the wisdom of which you spake. I apologize for the familiarity in my writing, its quite clear that I have fallen rather far if I must now burden my troubles onto a woman; but perhaps due to the oddity of my social standing I don’t see my admission as such a bad thing, after all they are only words and this is a letter amongst friends. I sound like a fool, but your kind words are the greatest treasure I own, greater then any abundance I could ever hope to posses and I say that free from the gazing specter of shame. My heart, I am afraid has betrayed me; it aches for a narrative that is rooted firmly in the realm of fiction and has confused me with its deceptions. She sung a luscious harpy song and I followed that honeyed music to jagged black rocks of my ruin. I saw her true face, horrific to behold, but I deceived myself into thinking I was unworthy of her monstrous visage, and the foul selfish creature that she was took full advantage of my kindness. Pride, the cause of all problems, had initiated the destruction of my hopes because I have ever prided myself on being kind and proper in my actions. I try to have no artifice in both my words and dealings with people, I am intrinsically aware that the words we use have meaning, and with actions involving the heart one should be more aware of the things spoken. I feel strongly about this, and would never aspire to so frivolously toss my words about without any proper consideration towards the contexts in which they are used. This basic artlessness I am learning is not always found in other people, and the depths others sink in their guile is only now something I am even entertaining. I am, perhaps hopelessly naïve, but I honestly had hoped my faith in the benevolence of people was not misplaced, but it seems I am quickly learning the meaning of betrayal. I am trying, my dearest friend, to stay efficacious in my attitudes, but her words swarm through my veins like a plague of locusts, adulterating my constitution. I feel such perturbation as to why someone would freely part with such kindness in their words if the intent behind them was always malevolent. I saw only glittering promise hang in the reflection of her emerald coloured eyes and stupidly hung on every airy word that slipped out of her mouth. How I bristle at my stupidity now these many months latter, her intent was to simply find some imbecile to freely part with their wealth, and I am afraid that I was too weak to see the calamity that awaited.
So many nights I sat awake in my room, writing furious declarations of my feelings under the dim glow of my bedside lamp; I thought if I could only find the right words she would see me as being worthy of her luminous touch. Dear Friend, can you believe the folly I endured, I was so possessed that I frenziedly rode to her estate under the pale light of the hunter’s moon, fingers covered in thick black ink and a cream coloured letter lay next to my heart, the words written by my hand in large delicate loops were in a perfect world going to sway her affections towards your humble narrator; but my words were only met with smiling indifference. The pain is gone, distant and foolish upon further reflection but I cringe at how audacious I acted, and upon more rumination I ask myself what good can come from allowing such vulnerabilities to be exposed. I had perhaps to trustingly turned to the works of Byron, Milton, and my name sake; and thought that all I would ever need to sway the affections of the fairer sex would be a few choice words and sonnet.
It is as I had said before a wondrous fiction that had deceived me and when words and impressive actions have failed, I am left with the undeniable truth and that is it is all straw. Better minds then mine have reached the same conclusion, but as my dreams tumble back into the void unfulfilled and unmourned I know there is only the darkness. No profound thoughts, prattle about in my head and perhaps this black cloud is a passing thing; I have been invited to a celebration and I have been told company can sometimes cheer one up. I shall waste no more of your time, and when next I write I would hope I have better news to share.
Respectfully yours,
D_________
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