Exercice 39 of 3 A.M. Epiphany



“Dear sister,

Galatea, Just Love

I learned early this morning that you were going to marry a man from a good and respectable family. I would like to express my sincere congratulations to you and your beau.”

I was thinking in other ways to continue the letter, however, nothing came into my mind. I looked at my pen hoping it will hear my despair and give me the inspiration I needed. Inspiration, that is what I needed more than anything. I couldn’t just tell what I felt, because my feelings were everything except “sincerely” optimistic. I dropped the blue pen and felt the hard pain coming from my beaten fingers.

I remembered my wedding day. Leah was fixing the bottom of my long white dress, with a smile fitting perfectly with her blue eyes radiant with joy and passion for life.

“You look wonderful. If only I could look a half of how you look for my marriage, I would consider it a success,” she tenderly said.

Picturing my reflection in the atrociously expensive mirror of the dressing room, it was hard to remember what I felt that day. I know it, it was curiosity and hope, but empathizing was notwithstanding impossible. I cannot remember what I can’t fell today.

So I started writing.
“Dear sister,
I learned early this morning that you were going to marry a man from a good and respectable family. I do not write to you to express my congratulations, it is not my intention and I apologize from the bottom of my heart. My heart! That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Before thinking of giving your hand to a man whose feelings are unknown to you, make sure to give him, before anything else, your heart and that this one offers it to you.


I myself made the same mistake by fear of harming our image, to honor our good mother, my misfortune and my despair accompany me the day and night, from the awakening until sleep.

I thought that love was a feeling that you should labor, and I labored tirelessly. I worked until I got sick and lost my means. Love is a trophy that we should all share, why fatigue our heart in trying to love the one who will not love us? A marriage dishonest to your feelings will prevent you from living a love whose flame of passion will never be extinguished, epic to the point of making you dream, a love that will be the most joyful, exciting, beautiful and most important chapter in the

history of your life.
Do not limit yourself to prevent your heart from loving. Like George Sand once told her lover

Alfred de Musset in a letter similar to this one, when you will find yourself on the edge of your grave, you will look back and say to yourself “I have suffered often, I have made mistakes a few times, I am the one who has lived and not an artificial being created by my pride and my boredom.”

I myself got married a wealthy man for whom I felt indifferent from the beginning, someone I didn’t love but that was a feeling I convinced myself would disappear over time. His rudeness and his aggressively toward me became more intense. My poor heart lost its brightness and the hope of being conquered one day was being destroyed by way of perceiving marriage. I have had to adopt an abominable routine; he made of me an object which served him as a social image, I wasn’t even a trophy, I was more like a jewerly that serves to shows his social status. I worked on improving my imitation skills. I even know how to look happy next to him. Honesty no longer enters on my vocabulary, I wear a daily mask where I satisfy the needs of a husband who will never love me, and whom I will never love.

It is said that in love there is always one who suffers, and one who is bored. I have never known love, but I believe it is better to juggle between these two feelings rather than limit your heart to never know love; In this way you will sink into a constant suffering that never stops, in a disillusionment that has no cure and a virgin heart that will never have the hope of giving your life an instant of happiness.

I was like you, young and I thought I didn’t have a choice. Hear me out, sister, a marriage without love lets you facing not solitude but loneliness. Despair, that feeling that became my inseparable companion in my misfortune where the sadness of my destiny breaks my dearest dreams and my happiness. Love is a sort of Pygmalion that gradually makes you perfect for someone, and even before living with you, you imprison your feelings forever into a heart that cannot beat pushed by the cold rock, by marrying you by interest.

Love is the key to happiness, which is itself the reason for our existence. Do you want to live? Love! Once you get married it’s too late, do not be fooled by the social opinion that will cause the murder of your person. Marriage for love is the best way out, listen to your heart and not to your interests. Avoid your grief, do not follow your poor sister’s path.

You must love, Galatea.”

As I was writing my name on the bottom of the letter, seeing the two opposite letters facing each other, one crying for help and one flooding with lies and hypocritical wishes. I took an envelope and put the piece of paper inside.

Weeks had passed since I sent the letter, I was sit on the bench of the church and I saw her walking through the aisle. She looked at me, she smiled, and I pictured again the letter in my desk. The one she never received.

My misfortune would stay buried with my hopes forever. She walked, she smiled at the row surely for the last time of her life.

And together, we will be lonely.