Dear Me!

It can only be my fault, my doing. For no sane being may understand the sense of these words, for this I lay them in a complete mystery - but as I lay them, I forget that he is no exception to the leading army. The very qualities of a ruler he indeed possesses - is it hard to remember this? Alas, were he the leader, it would be still harder to get near his sphere - the sphere of affection, it is to me. As I call him 'sir', letting my superiority - and my modesty - sink, I demand his being fit for this title; is he, however, the sole being that should understand my writing? My words, are they appropriate to reach his attention? Drawing him near is much easier after I have captured his glance. But I have never been to shine. The sparkle, if there is one indeed, is hidden inside, though its covers are I believe pleasant, therefore it should not be hard to unlace them.

There are few that have reached that level of intrusion, in my deepest thoughts, for I, as everyone else, am complex and a bit uneasy to read.

LAUGH AS YOU WISH, I am now sincere and nor you, nor any of your little role-playing characters can tie my tongue - it is but your concern whether you are as well honest - loyalty shall never be asked of you - honest, yes, for truth is the key to understanding and fellowship. At least most of us think.

He whom I intended to write to is little to be bothered with this little remark I made. Yes, my dear sir shall never be concerned - except, of course, when he himself demands it.

Yet it is a sure matter that future shall erase his memory - and that his hurting shall pass like any other - any 'suffering' girl must pass this test of resistance - but this, that I now write, shall never, perhaps, be hidden in time's fierce shadows; and these remains will make me remember how no one could find a key to my mind.