(no subject)
Franz,
You once told me that you did what you did because you couldn’t imagine a world without me in it. I don’t know what you saw in me that made you think that I could do the reverse, but-perhaps that’s all right. Maybe I don’t need to understand everything. Maybe it’s all right to be a little foolish, if it means I’m the sort of person that others could care about so much.
If you’re reading this, then it means the goddess has sent me back, and I’m afraid you’ll have to find a way to live without me for awhile. Surely it’s easier than you make it seem, Franz. Living’s easy when you break it down to its smallest core-you breathe, you eat, you make sure to drink enough water (especially in a climate like this one!) and somehow, the rest comes naturally. You carry on, whether you want to or not.
The wanting to comes later. I’ve learned that.
There are other things I’ve learned, but it’s only since coming to this island. From what I’ve heard, I won’t remember any of it when I get back-which seems like a joke when it comes to life lessons, but I suppose I have to make do with what I’m given. I can’t decide whether there’s any point in saying what I want now that things are the way they are; I won’t remember it back home, and neither you nor Eugenie will be there when I get back, but I’ve never held back before.
It would seem foolish to start now, wouldn’t it?
The truth is, Franz, that I’ve never been so happy as when the three of us were together. Something about it seemed perfect, like a watch that never needed winding, or one of those summer days that stretched on so long it seemed like it might last forever. There’s no such thing as forever-I know that now-but I can’t help but wonder if perhaps Edmond Dantes and my father both might have been happier if they hadn’t tried to upset that balance of three.
Their situation was different, of course. No man is the same as any other, and that’s what makes us all so special, each person unique and wonderful in his or her own way. I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I love you, Franz. I always have, and I always will. If the three of us could have continued on into our adulthood as close as we were in our youth then I suspect I might have been happy forever.
That’s a terribly scandalous thought though, isn’t it? Even for Paris. I’ve never heard of anyone who married both of his best friends before, but the simple truth of the matter is that I love you just as much as I love Eugenie. I can’t imagine my life without either of you in it. Except, it seems, that I must.
Can I tell you a secret, Franz? I suppose I already have, but a part of me believes that I won’t forget everything that’s happened here. I might not be able to think of it all the time the way I do here, but I’ll carry it with me in my heart. I know that for certain. I won’t leave anything behind.
Please take care of yourself. If there are other worlds like this one, then we might see one another again sooner than you’d think. And if I find out you haven’t been looking after yourself, then you’ll be in such trouble!
If you thought I was fearsome as a pirate, then you haven’t seen Albert de Morcerf when he’s truly incensed.
Love always,
Albert