www.martinnaef.ch / 1.2: Briefe > To Vicky K., March 25th 2005, three weeks after my return from India, Paris

To Vicky K., March 25th 2005, three weeks after my return from India, Paris

Dear Vicky! This is a letter I can never send to you, so at least says my reason. My emotional inside hates such advice. The child in me is crying and arguing about it since I felt the love for you growing inside me. Why can't I call you baby or sweet heart when ever I want to? Why can I not be close to you all the time? Why can't I take you in my arms and hold you tight all night? Why can't I tell you „I love you"? Why can't I tuch your body without shame and kiss you in what ever way I want? Why can't I make love to you?

Reason says you are too young. You need your space. I shouldn't pressure you into something you do not want and like. But why am I so convinced, that you don't like it, and if you really do not like it, how will you ever learn to fight for your space if everybody behaves toward you the way I did and do?

In the train back from Cennai to Colcata and there, in our Hotel room, when I told you about my being gay and all, I followed the advice of my reason, but sometimes I wonder, whether the advice was as good and sound as I thought it was. Why did I not tell you, I love you, I need you, my heart is on fire, my body is in pain! Why did I not ask you to hold me, to look at me and to accept what I feel for you? Why did I not trust you all the way? Why did I not give life a chance! Why was I so shy and so fucking considerate! I had hundred reasons for behaving the way I did , but was the actual and only reason not my fear to be rejected, to hear, that I am too old for you and that loving your own sex was something which you had never considered anyways. Was I not just trying to avoid the pain. Now that I sit here, thousands of miles away from you, I think that this is exactly, what I did. Instead I played the role of the understanding and generous older person, who is still young enough to feel, what he feels, and enjoy the breaze of a friendship he has never had and may never have. Vicky, why was I so shy? I thought I was protecting you, but what was I protecting you from and why? Are my feelings so hateful, that you have to be protected from them? Why did I not tell you openly and without any hesitation how much I love and need you? You would have been free to run away, to say no or react in whatever way you wanted to react. Why did I think this would be so terrible for you? I didn't do it, because I did not want to kill the relationship we have had and even now I feel, that I would have killed it, if I had tried to convince you to be my lover. Even if you had at first enjoyed and wanted it, the happiness would not have lasted long. The difference in age, culture and education between you and me is too big! This is what I thought two months ago and this is what I still think, when the crying and the pain in me stop for a while. In this sense I feel that I was right to behave toward you the way I did. But while I am waiting for you to mail or call my trust in what I / we did is turning sour. I start feeling insecure and anxious: Is our relationship not in danger just because I tried to protect you and me? Is it not bound to dye a slow death, because I was and still am holding back so much?

While I was pondering over my love for you during our two months in India I put a lot of thought into the question, why a person like you – too young for me and too far away in terms of culture, knowledge and education - triggers so many deep feelings in me. Why did I not put an equal amount of inner searching into the question, why I am so easily convinced, that I should not tell you about my love? – While I was writing this, I suddenly remembered, that you had met a guy from Korea last August. He too wanted to support you. He sent you a mail in August or September which you have not answered until months later. You told this story to Amie and me a couple of days after our first encounter in Bodh Gaya. I had forgotten this incident but now I remember it. It makes me wunder, whether I will ever hear from you again. I am waiting for a mail of you for two weeks and the pain of not hearing from you is becoming bigger and bigger.

Vicky, friend, neffew, lover – I miss you. I miss your laughter, I miss your hand in mine, I miss your head on my shoulder, I miss your tenderness and the kindness with which you have treated me. I miss your lifelyness, your smiles and your surprised „o no", when something was not the way you have been used to it until now. I miss your happy „this is India", when I was  crossed about something or did not understand. I miss your presence day and night. I miss your patience and your openness. I miss the way you handed me my chai, I miss your simple „why not", when I was hesitating and couldn't make up my mind. I miss your cheerful „it's your number now", when I did not want to get up in the morning. I miss the feeling – was it an illusion? – of being used and liked! I miss all this and much more! I can write it down and tell a few friends about it, but the pain in my heart remains. There for, Vicky, please do not forget me and our time together. Please help this relationship to stay alive and grow ... Nicht abgeschickt