MIND: Addictive

Something in you pacifies me.
You’ve always had that power over me – part of you pacifies, another terrifies.
How do I get sick of that? I will never get sick of that.

// Henry Miller, from a letter to Anaïs Nin

MIND: Roots

I don’t lie to you.
Nor do I try to hurt you when I’m honest with you.
I’ve protected, or tried to, the best in you.
I never could promise to protect your body and soul –
nobody can promise another that.
We can only make one another strong, help each other to believe in ourselves.
He does not protect you – he makes you a slave.
You get befuddled.
You need him and he needs you – and it’s not true, it’s a lie, and you know it, and that’s the root of all your unhappiness.

// Henry Miller, from a letter to Anaïs Nin

MIND: Necessary Evil

You have become so vital a part of me that
I’m completely upside down, if that means anything.
I don’t know what I write – only that I love you,
that I must have you exclusively, fiercely, possessively.
You come and you make me sick with desire, with a desire to possess you,
to have you around me always, talking to me naturally,
moving about as if you were a part of me.

// Henry Miller, from a letter to Anaïs Nin

MIND: Imagined

I think you still love me, but we can’t escape the fact that I’m not enough for you. I knew this was going to happen. So I’m not blaming you for falling in love with another woman. I’m not angry, either. I should be, but I’m not. I just feel pain. A lot of pain. I thought I could imagine how much this would hurt, but I was wrong.

South of the Border, West of the Sun // Haruki Murakami