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I am reduced to a thing that wants Virginia. I cannot seem to choose the right phrase to express how profound I feel. Iβve composed you a prepossessing letter, in the midst of night, and.. it has all gone. I just miss you, in the most desperately human way.
You, and your extensive choice of words, would never write a phrase so elementary such as that; perhaps you wouldnβt even feel the same way, yet the insolent such as I believe you might.
Youβd clothe yours with a much exquisite expressions that itβd lose a little of its reality; whereas with me, Iβm quite plain. I miss you more than I presumed; and believe me, I was prepared to miss you immensely.
This letter is just.. a squeal of pain, contrary to what I first intended. It is incredible how significant to me you have become.
I suppose you are accustomed to people saying these things. Damn you, spoilt creature. I shanβt make you love me any the more by giving myself away like thisβbut oh my dear, I canβt be clever and standoffish with you. Β I love you too much for that. Too sincere.
You have no idea how standoffish I can be with people I donβt love. I have proved myself adept in doing so. But you, Virginia, have broken down my defences. And I donβt begrudge it.
Please forgive me, Virginia, for I have produced such a grievous oeuvre.
V.
Samael
Posted first in @SHllXUN
[Friday, November 6th, 2020. 06:26 AM.]
W/N: this writingβs origin is fragments from The Letters of Vita Sackville-West to Virginia Woolf, paraphrased accordingly to the writerβs interpretations.