How easily you now live without me; how awkwardly and clumsily and foolishly I live without you. I hope this does not embarrass you to read; it does not embarrass me to say. The pain, anyhow, is past. To love you without hope or expectation feels expansive. There is nothing that I need from you, nothing you can say or do in response to it – only know that there is nothing about you that I find unlovely. That I cherish you, deeply and profoundly and without reservation. That you should exist in this world – that I should have been with you – that I have been able to know both suffering and joy at your hands – seems like an extravagant gift, one for which I am forever and unutterably grateful.

I am not sad; I am not lonely. I have found myself capable of love that is unaffected and unassailable by circumstances and I am forever better for it. If this seems overwhelming or simply odd – well, I have unquiet thoughts, a disordered heart and an anxious spirit and I can only apologize for them.

If there is anything coherent or sane to be taken from this it may be that whatever hurts I have felt are all passing, and cannot outweigh or contaminate the hugeness of my happiness. You are remarkable. I love you unrestrainedly. I will still have to guard myself with you, practically speaking. But I have nothing left to fear; I have gone through the worst of it now and you were worth all of it.

Love Letters Sent and Responses Received

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