It seems, perhaps, that we are both stymied by the purpose of my letter. I believe that is the best word for it, for I discover myself, all too often, hesitating at the crossroads of a choice for no good reason. If there was a good reason, as one might suppose there always is, I wouldn't have so much trouble making the right choice, would I?

And as I write this, I can genuinely tell you that I am being honest about that much.

Would that I could be otherwise. You call me honest with you, and yet not always with myself. I have to wonder, honwever, if this letter is not proof that statement is wrong, or at least proof that I am better at deception than ever given credit for. I believe that when I am with you, I am honest about the things we talk about, though at times we scarcely talk at all. Indeed, we might call upon each other and say nothing of consequence, then return home to write out our truest of truths to the other; how is that not dishonesty?

And what if I take it as truth, that I am honest. Why, then, can I scarcely bring myself to write the words of those days I mentioned before? Would it make them real, would it reveal my true feelings, to write them down in a letter? Perhaps that is the part of my dishonesty you have discovered here, if you did not know of it all along. In which case, the only way I can remain true to my honesty to you is to write out the words and hope the truth does not shock me, or you when you read it.

There is more to him that I enjoy than mere friendship can satisfy.

Seeing that there in ink is starting to scare me, Zinnia, and it begs me to finish this letter so I no longer have to see it myself. Of the second question I asked you, your answer is the one I knew would come. I think I knew even before I asked, and yet I had to ask or leave myself stymied. And now, faced with a choice for which I believe I have good reason, I can only hope that this reason is something borne of honesty and not the alternative for which I have an unforeseen talent.


P.S. Please destroy this letter once you have read it twice, it scares me too much to have it found.

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