Nearest to my heart
I'm not used to writing letters that will get thrown away, but I'm trying this once. I'm sure I'll have to write this a dozen times before I get it right. But drafts are a good thing. This is my first draft, my first letter, but not the first time I ever tried to reach out to you.
Can you understand me at all?
Anne Sullivan touched Helen Keller. That moment, that spark, that connection opened Helen's world. You are my Annie. I would read, read, and read. What was I searching for, I haven't a clue. But that is how I feel now, that I was searching for a way. I was lost in the darkness of my own damaged life.
You reached out to me with your words. Your soft spoken kind words. I heard you, but I could not respond. I wasn't stupid, I knew I was in a bad situation. But what could I say to you, how would I speak in your language? It seemed hopeless. Even then as I started to have feelings for you. You only saw that I lived in a far away place. A dark, dull, useless life.
But that was not to last. Your kindness lit a spark me. Remember the day I told you I felt like I was awoken from a long sleep? Remember? I told you that you were the reason I woke up. You smiled. I was far from your world, too far to understand you. Or maybe you thought, I would never be enough for you.
I'll have to continue this later. There are too many thoughts rushing around inside my head. But I want to leave you with one thought for now. That spark that you lit still burns within my heart. It is fueled by your words, your written words. There is so much to explain, but I feel as if you have always want to touch others with your words. Words were your life and I heard them, felt them. You touched me. And with that touch came hope. Hope that it was possible for me to love and be loved. You saved my life with your black-inked words placed upon white paper. Now, words carry the same importance for me as if contagious, I am with fever. Fever for your words, and for you.
I'm here. I have been here for years. I'll be here forever.