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Dear Malco,
If I looked at the world through your eyes, I would surely require a parallel world, one in which you could be fond of your close ones, and everything would not revolve around Jane. I understand how you fantasised about those stories, those creative moments in your writer's imagination, and those emotional times that you never shared. You wanted to speak the truth and touch the reality that you were moved by her, but the fact that she was hurt when you noticed those 27 dresses she arranged were all by herself. You could feel how those efforts that go unread to everyone, those small things you need or wait for people to notice, clash with someone who actually does. I know you weren't even ready to look at Jane as your partner, and the way you kept arguing with her and with yourself until you accepted it is a CRUSH. That non-believer self in you was a raw critic that made her so distant from you, but got you so close to her simultaneously. This was your shield indeed! The non-caring "You" just chased her and noticed what no one else did; you saw what no one else saw in Jane, and none could have ever noticed the 'real her' if you hadn't written the piece. The fragment of life she was nervous about, all those made-up responsibilities and feelings she restricted herself from - it was you who brought her back to herself.
The emotion of a writer, like anyone, could have died ages ago after watching 27 Dresses, until they found you: speaking absolutely nothing but writing every edge of your emotion in a hidden column and enclosing those feelings into the words.
A writer's emotions always live..
if the reader has fallen in love with the writing...
Oh! How you kept pushing Jane to open her heart, starting with standing on top of a table and shouting your heart out while singing with someone you had never calculated your life with--but maybe you did a little bit more when you kissed for the first time. Honestly, before you kissed her for the first time, she felt like whatever she read about you was always true - those emotions, those heartfelt words, and day after day columns. While she realised it was all true--you did not lie about yourself--perhaps your unwanted truth gave her heart a way out to feel the comfort with you. Jane loved being there for you, and you did too, you know.
I wish I could have been a part of your life because what she saw with you was more than what she thought she deserved, and how a little change might fit into a human you love. To quote, when a writer gives you their main element or source of inspiration—like the camera or the journal—you have to figure out how you could possibly mean less than the world to them. In fact, you knew what the damage was, and nothing could have ever fixed it unless you did the right thing.
To all of the readers from the writers:
if I give you my word, it is far more expensive than anything I could have ever offered to you. And it's fantastic for me when I give you a picture with a letter on it; it transfers my feelings from me to you, and that's the most enchanting thing I can do. However, it's even more expensive when you feel what I'm saying when I dedicate those words to you.So battling about it, you discovered someone's reality, just as a writer's life confined in words could be everything to someone.
Love,
Viewer