August 14, 1918
Oh Mitya, I want to see you. I want to hear your voice. I want to put my hand on your shoulder and cry my heart out. Mitya, Mitya, I have never told you the whole truth. You shall have it now: I have loved you all my life, a long time without knowing, 5 years knowing it as irrevocably as I know it now, loved you as my ideal, my inspiration, my perfection.
Ah, Mitya, and you think it is a flirting fickle thing. And I am telling you the truth, as though I only had another hour of life in which to tell it to you. And the supreme truth is this: I can never be happy without you. I am nothing without you. Ah, I want you, my Mitya, my own. I would be quite content to live on terms of purely platonic friendship with you- provided we were alone and together- for the rest of my days. Now you know everything. You are the grande passion of my life. How gladly would I sacrifice everything to you- family, friends, fortune, everything. What could I care as long as we could be together?
Ah, Mitya, and you think it is a flirting fickle thing. And I am telling you the truth, as though I only had another hour of life in which to tell it to you. And the supreme truth is this: I can never be happy without you. I am nothing without you. Ah, I want you, my Mitya, my own. I would be quite content to live on terms of purely platonic friendship with you- provided we were alone and together- for the rest of my days. Now you know everything. You are the grande passion of my life. How gladly would I sacrifice everything to you- family, friends, fortune, everything. What could I care as long as we could be together?
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