Letters To A SoldierMature

Indication of how pathetically in need of you I am. xD A culmination of all the things I have told you...when you were listening and when you were not. A culmination of all the things that always were and always will be, never to change. ^^ And, above all else...A love story. Our love story.


Dear Soldier...

I hate to use that noun to describe you...I hate to think of you as the warrior, the fighter...I hate to think of the danger and pain that title puts you in...And yet, what have I left to call you? Even your name is no longer right of mine to utter...And it pains me so to know this.

You told me before that you would always be there to listen...You would always be my personal journal, my ear to listen, shoulder to lean on...Yet you are not here now. Are you lost to me forever, I wonder? I dread to even imagine such a fate, yet how inevitable it seems!

You have no idea the depth of my need and affection for you...

You are the light of my world, my greatest goal. There is no one thing for which I could aim that could be neither grander nor more difficult to achieve than you: my light, my highest, my angel among men. You are the path I have chosen to walk, for how long I cannot know, and it is surely the most difficult path I could have ever chosen. I could rule the world ten times over before I could call you mine. You are the single-most elusive object of my so privileged life--and you are the single-most thing worth the pursuit!

You are surely the most lovely creature I have ever laid eyes upon. You are amazing. Your strength, your resilience…If anyone else had lived half of what you have, my brave soldier, they would surely be nothing of what you are. The way you touch the lives of everyone around you…

It annoys the heck out of you, I know. Your little legion of followers who whisper to you how great you are and all that you have done for them, how you have helped them, changed them. Who whisper to you empty words like “love,” a concept you have long ago lost faith in—and whisper it when they are but children.

I would like to think I am of this group and that I am not…you have told me in conversations past that I am special to you, that I am unlike everything before…You have learned the truth of the matter since these words, I believe, yet I would like to think that in some small way at least, there is a grain of truth to them yet. For you have learned that in reality I am not all that special, that I am above average, but so are dozens, hundreds of others. I am not truly spectacular. But I would like to think that I mean something to you yet, that somehow I still hold a spot in your so...injured heart that has never been held before, that will always be mine.

It is a child’s fantasy, I know, but what about love is not? What about this most diligent, persistent, even obsessive of pursuits is not crafted upon childish notion and hope? Upon fantasy and the most pure of dreams? Love is the emotion of our deepest desires. I know you do not believe in it, in this childish fancy, but you told me once, long ago, that if there were one person upon this planet who could make you believe…

You told me I would be that one.

I would like to cling to some hope, in vain or not, that such might, someday, still hold true. Because still, to this day, still I love you.


Yours, Always.

The End

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