(no subject)
Dear Satine,
After our conversation last night, I must confess: I am a terrible speaker. Though I am a writer by blood, my thoughts, my emotions are things I cannot express vocally. I suppose it's a curse that I can speak through actors and not with my own voice, but I find a certain comfort that the words the actors speak are words I have written on paper; therefore the realization came that I should express my feelings not through the words I cannot speak, but with the words that I can compose.
Satine, we have been avoiding each other, physically and verbally. I do not blame you for your actions and your reservations to see me, if you had any. The blame for our lack of correspondence is on me entirely. I was afraid, without having spoken to you, that I had lost you to Christian. I was afraid that I could not win you back from fate. How I could believe such things, yet say that you had a choice, that you were not dominated by money or your career but by your own free will?
You should know I wish for your happiness and for your freedom. It pains me to see you conflicted and bound, unsure of your right to the better things in life, your right to freedom and love. You have as much right as anyone. No one can tell you otherwise, not even yourself. I say the following things not to bind you to a certain fate, but to inform you on no uncertain terms my feelings for you.
When I said that I loved you, I meant it. When I asked you not to leave, I meant it. The night after I received your letter, I became...intoxicated. I was miserable, unhappy, and lonely. I missed you, and I could not think back on our short days together without feeling pain. The most inconsequential mention of things caused me discomfort because they reminded me of what I believed I had lost. I deeply, deeply regret having not spoken to you, written you, or sought you out to learn the truth of your feelings.
If you chose to go with Christian, I will understand. I cannot deny that I will be upset by your decision. I cannot, however, in good conscience deny you the right of respect for the decisions you have made. Satine, please do not take this letter as an encroachment on your freedom or an attempt to make your decision more difficult than it undoubtedly is. If possible, I hope that this letter would make your decision easier, and if it has not, I apologize. You continue to hold my highest esteem, regardless of who are what you are, of which profession you are bound to at home. In my eyes you are more than just a courtesan. You are beautiful, both outside and in, an inspiration. You sing beautifully, dance gracefully, and I would do anything--anything--in my power to make you happy. I would help you become an actress; I would write a play for you. I would do these things to keep you, to see you smile, to hear you sing and dance and live.
But what I cannot do, what I do not have in my power to do, is to make you decide who you should love. Selfish as I am, I wish your choice would be me. But this is for you to decide. I just wanted you to know that I have not regretted a single moment with you.
Sincerely,
Jack Driscoll
P.S. If you need to see me tonight, I will be in my room here at the bar.
I'm still in love with you.
After our conversation last night, I must confess: I am a terrible speaker. Though I am a writer by blood, my thoughts, my emotions are things I cannot express vocally. I suppose it's a curse that I can speak through actors and not with my own voice, but I find a certain comfort that the words the actors speak are words I have written on paper; therefore the realization came that I should express my feelings not through the words I cannot speak, but with the words that I can compose.
Satine, we have been avoiding each other, physically and verbally. I do not blame you for your actions and your reservations to see me, if you had any. The blame for our lack of correspondence is on me entirely. I was afraid, without having spoken to you, that I had lost you to Christian. I was afraid that I could not win you back from fate. How I could believe such things, yet say that you had a choice, that you were not dominated by money or your career but by your own free will?
You should know I wish for your happiness and for your freedom. It pains me to see you conflicted and bound, unsure of your right to the better things in life, your right to freedom and love. You have as much right as anyone. No one can tell you otherwise, not even yourself. I say the following things not to bind you to a certain fate, but to inform you on no uncertain terms my feelings for you.
When I said that I loved you, I meant it. When I asked you not to leave, I meant it. The night after I received your letter, I became...intoxicated. I was miserable, unhappy, and lonely. I missed you, and I could not think back on our short days together without feeling pain. The most inconsequential mention of things caused me discomfort because they reminded me of what I believed I had lost. I deeply, deeply regret having not spoken to you, written you, or sought you out to learn the truth of your feelings.
If you chose to go with Christian, I will understand. I cannot deny that I will be upset by your decision. I cannot, however, in good conscience deny you the right of respect for the decisions you have made. Satine, please do not take this letter as an encroachment on your freedom or an attempt to make your decision more difficult than it undoubtedly is. If possible, I hope that this letter would make your decision easier, and if it has not, I apologize. You continue to hold my highest esteem, regardless of who are what you are, of which profession you are bound to at home. In my eyes you are more than just a courtesan. You are beautiful, both outside and in, an inspiration. You sing beautifully, dance gracefully, and I would do anything--anything--in my power to make you happy. I would help you become an actress; I would write a play for you. I would do these things to keep you, to see you smile, to hear you sing and dance and live.
But what I cannot do, what I do not have in my power to do, is to make you decide who you should love. Selfish as I am, I wish your choice would be me. But this is for you to decide. I just wanted you to know that I have not regretted a single moment with you.
Sincerely,
Jack Driscoll
P.S. If you need to see me tonight, I will be in my room here at the bar.
I'm still in love with you.