I was reading famous historic love letters the other day (don’t ask) and I can’t get one line out of my head. The opening line of a letter from Vita Sackville-West to to Virginia Woolf:
I am reduced to a thing that wants Virginia.
I can’t get over how well this one line captures the helplessness, and the out-of-bodyness that comes with the early days of an infatuation — when your head is swimming with nothing but the thoughts of someone else, someone who you want desperately and you believe/think/hope/worry that they want you back.
Here’s hoping that all of you are, at least occasionally, reduced to a thing that simply wants!
