• “A Letter to John Weaver”


    John Weaver, this letter is addressed to you…

    ___Now, if I ever really liked you, which I’m sure I did to a certain extent, I know and realize that I should move my mind past whatever those feelings are or might have been. To put it simply, my naïve fantasy is finally coming to an end; I refuse to let my soul continue to bend. Even though I will burn this letter to ash, and it will never meet your eyes, it is written for my benefit rather than yours. Despite my childish yearnings, I know that even if you were without a feminine shadow, your nature true is that of a hound; a level to which I am not willing to stoop. My best admiring goes to your abilities as an actor. There was a time a thought you were kind of cute and a little sweet, even a little anxious as to when we would next meet, but these times have past.

    ___Oh how fickle a thing is the mind; “I love humans, always seeing patterns that aren’t there,” (The Doctor). A few times I’d read into things far beyond their meaning, hoping, and concocting the most clever delusions; Things of which a simple man could never conceive; let alone conger the effort to ever achieve. I do consider myself an intelligent woman, but I always find myself struck with the same weakness: the heart. The countless civilizations and kings of highest caliber, even the smartest of men crumble under this same weakness. Perhaps we all doomed to the fate of falling for this same weakness at one point or another, but we should nonetheless tread with caution and learn from such mistakes, if made. More importantly: to think with our minds and spirits rather than with our bodies and genitals. These are the thoughts I leave you with, my petty ‘crush’. I’ve wasted more than is worth the thought in turmoil on you. I urge you plague me no longer; I bid you off with my softest of fallacies.

    With love,
    Alice Dent