dear eglantine

Dear eglantine,
This is a letter i think will never be sent. There are too many imbalances and differences between us, for pure honesty to be wise (as it always ought be, but hardly ever is). I do, however, dream of reaching out and loving you in the most elemental, healing way (a healing that would have reciprocal effects for my own battered self)...knowing how imprudent that would be though, it might help me to share this letter with the universe, at least.
I think that we (humans) are all here to love each other. When someone comes to us saying "can you love me", our response shouldn't be negotiated, qualified, or quantified. It should simply be yes, tell me what you need.
In your fumbling, dysfunctional way you have asked me for love. For my friendship, as a rare person you regard as intelligent. And when your self-medicated tongue flows more freely, you speak (or almost speak) of looking to me for some of the physical love so clearly missing from your life. The other night when you drunk-called me, you spoke of what you do when your mother is mean...you give her a cuddle, because you know that's really all she's asking for. How could i not smile at how meanly you had treated me earlier that day? Were you intentionally speaking in allegory? The night you showed up drunk at my door, admiring my muscles...and that day you walked in on me in the shower, i found that pretty sexy...despite our myriad differences and my middling attraction, i do dream of giving you the carnal healings you need. I wonder whether i've EVER met a human who so obviously needed that...and that, dear friend, is saying something.
Of course, the pachyderm in all this potential ointment is the fact that your personality is so stressful and wearying that i can only take you in small doses. Your bossy, bristly, superstitious, dogmatic, interruptive personality wears me down. If i say that you are insane, please understand that i mean we are all insane...it's just that most cover it up a lot better. I'm pretty sure you're self-aware of at least some of this. I'm not sure whether that makes it less tragic, or more.
As lovers or friends in any conventional sense, we would be a howling disaster. So a part of me will always dream of the unconventional...or of even just giving you the occasional cuddle.
There is a rip in my spirit (and shame for my species), where helping to give you the uninhibited healing you need, should be.
your foolish friend,
wrob