To Tom (3)

Dear Tom,
I know it's been too long, but that was our deal right? We will never be superficial, we will never allow mundane details into our relationship, no ingenuity of any sort. So here I am, reading this book about lightness and weight and remembering you. I wonder how one could bear both the weight of their existence and the lightness of its insignificance, all at once. It's kind of funny; I've had this book on my shelf for ages and I only happen to pick it up when I am struggling with both contrasts. There's another concept in this book, this concept is "Es muss sein"; it's a phrase that means "It must be". Do you think reading this book at this exact time of my life is my Es Muss Sein? Isn't this the kind of coincidence you'd read about in one of your novels? Do you remember that time we were sitting on your bed and you told me "I don't want to wake up tomorrow, Anna" in the most casual tone ever, like you were asking me what are we having for lunch? It horrified me. Not the fact that you didn't want to wake up tomorrow, but how calm you sounded when you said it, because I know you, Tom, you're not the kind of person that can conceal their feelings, your voice always betrays you, so I knew you were feeling as calm as you said it and it scared me. I didn't understand, but now I do. I've always aimed for the lightness of being, but I can bear neither the lightness nor the weight of my being. I want it all to go away, Tom. I can't stand myself, do you think it will ever stop? In my lifetime, I mean, has it stopped for you? Talk to me, Tom, I miss you like hell. I'll always think of you as the most precious thing I've ever had in my life.
Yours always,