An unsent letter

She said that her mind was to measure, understand and prove, her body to test the limits of suffering and pleasure and her spirit to love endlessly. Some time ago, each piece decided to explore the heights of human experience, on its own. While she kept searching for her version of the truth, these disconnected levels of existence danced along, cyclically straying and colliding.

Just like a baby in the womb, everything was good and safe when it was just a daydream. Only a soft, lustful voice was troubling at night, whispering odd things inside her head. She never meant to let it escape from the safe-box, but it did.

In love, they were mirroring each other's fears, insecurities and pains. She wanted to see herself as brave, alive and extraordinary. At times the voice in her head went silent and the reality and fantasy were mixed up. Other times the harmony diverged again in search of a higher meaning.

It was the rainiest of summers because something had to put this fire away. In the end - has it ever started? - she learned to stop punishing herself. Not to love herself, but to let herself be. Because and in spite of it all.