The tyranny of a blank page.† Iíve half pondered things Iíve thought in conjuncture with your name in the past few days- just idle things while Iíve been walking alongside the village, in the foliage, or idling through a bookÖ but none of them are really solidifying as important or even memorable things, so Iím not only having a hard time convincing myself to tell you any of themÖ but also to remember quite what they were. So right up front I should (and will) warn you that this letter will be flighty, piece-meal in place, and nigh unto incoherent in others.† I regret if it turns into more of a journal piece.† Well, I suppose it wouldnít do that- even if it did smack of the tone, it would be less focused towards finding any patterns- whether in emotions or discoveries or otherwise. Usually my journal entries- for yes, Aubrey, I keep a journal- I canít remember now if I ever told you?- and the sort of letters to you that are the most akin to those journal entries- are like archaeology excursions- or some kind of personal collection of events, emotions, memories, and possibilities all put on similarly sized shelves or snipped to fit a theme, so that I can put them together to explain how Iím feeling or why I am a certain way.† Maybe itís not that this mail is different- just that Iím pretty mish-mosh right now, so all the personal archaeology and collections will reflect that.
Youíve said often lately that you donít know why weíre together- or why you care for me, or what it is that draws us together. You outline our differences, and say that what you feel is a gut feeling, and that there is something here, and we (or you) can leave it at that, and thatís enough, and that perhapsÖ you donít want to know what it is.† Aubrey- and I wrote that word and paused for the longest time, as if I donít know what I want to say- I told you recently that I want you to know me almost as much as I want to know myself. I want that to be the case so that we can be witnesses for each other, so that we can make each other happy and be able to be who we are with each other.† But thereís† bit of introspection where youíre concernedÖ that you donít know why youíre with me. And this isnít me trying to dredge up a stream of compliments. Honestly, what Iím ďlooking forĒ is a little more intangible. I think Iím asking you to try and understand me.† I think thatís where the reason for why we have something. And itís frustrating- not at you- just frustrating in general- that thereís a part of you that somehow canít travel there, that is content just to be hereÖ and not know why. Or how.
There are a lot of factors that have sculpted the way Iíve been feeling recently. In fact, I donít know how to give it a name- because I feel good and strange andÖ different, and even a little wrong, all at once. Itís easier to name the factors than the actual feelings.† But even those- some of those- thereís nothing to say.† Things have been changing on the island, and somehow the past has come back to speak to me, to ask me where Iím going. I donít know what to say- to you, or to Ďthemí- that nebulous thing of the past. I wish I could explain. Iím beginning to wonder if I could ever leave you this letter, or you might think me mad.††† I know thatís a lot to absorb, however, itís an abridged version of the sort of thing I do for myself, how I analyze myself and my mood. When I can bear it.† I wouldnít normally do it here, and to you, but Iíve been feeling as if I could useÖ something, like something could help me- and I know that you would want me to tell you if I thought you could help.† I only wish if I knewÖ if you could. But if we canít define this- how am I to define anything at all?
††††††††††† I apologize. Thatís not fair of me to say.† I neednít have an answer for this any more than I need a description for what we are, or why, or if thereís anything here at all. I think itís just my mind, and the lack of sleep, getting to me.† Iíve been working more with my private studies, and trying to keep my subjects in line with the research plans and the experimentation schedule. Things havenít been going well. There are too many restrictions, not enough time, and too many answers to questions I donít have.† I apologize againÖ it sounds as if Iím complaining to you, rather than justÖ using how calm you are now, to try and soak up some of this.† To be my ears in a time when you should probably have the use of mine.