Confessions of the Heart

Cedarwood House, Hampshire, England

My Dearest Sarah,

I sit here, pen in hand, in a moment of profound vulnerability, and yet I know that I cannot go on without telling you what lies heavy upon my heart. I write to you now, fully aware that the words I am about to write may alter everything between us, and yet I hope they change nothing. I find myself standing on the precipice of a truth so long kept hidden, a truth that demands to be spoken, regardless of the consequences. It is a truth that I can no longer carry within me, unspoken.

Sarah, I love you.

These words feel almost treasonous to my ears, as though I am betraying something sacred, yet I cannot deny their truth. It is a truth I have known in the deepest corners of my soul for so long that it seems strange now to utter it aloud. For how long I have hidden this love from you, and myself, I do not know. But as I sit here, I can no longer ignore the depth of my feelings, nor the intensity of the emotion that has consumed me. I love you, Sarah.

How odd it feels to admit this. To speak these words that, in the context of our world, seem so dangerous, so forbidden. And yet, here I am, confessing to you what I have kept locked inside for far too long. You, my dear friend, my companion, my confidante—you have become more to me than I ever anticipated.

What began as an innocent friendship has evolved into something deeper, something richer, something undeniable. In every word we share, in every quiet moment we spend together, I feel my heart draw closer to you. You have become the one I think of first upon waking and the last thought in my mind before sleep takes me. Your presence fills my life with a joy I never thought possible, and yet it also fills me with a sorrow too great to express. For I know that what I feel for you—what I have felt for so long—is a love that the world cannot accept.

We are both women, Sarah. Women are bound by the rigid expectations and harsh judgments of society. There is no place for a love like ours in the world we inhabit. There is no room for us, for the kind of love that blooms in quiet moments and unspoken glances. And yet, I can no longer pretend. I can no longer pretend that my heart does not ache for you, that I do not long for your touch, your smile, your presence in my life. I cannot keep this truth buried any longer.

Please do not misunderstand me, Sarah. I do not expect you to return my feelings. I know that such a thing is not possible, not in this world, not for us. I would never ask you to feel the same way, for I am well aware of the dangers that would come with such a love. I know that the consequences would be dire for both of us. But I ask, with all the tenderness in my heart, that you understand. I ask that you understand how deeply I care for you, how completely you have come to occupy my every thought, my every desire.

It has become impossible for me to ignore what is in my heart. When I look at you, when I hear your voice, when I feel the warmth of your presence beside me, my soul sings with a joy so pure and so overwhelming that it takes my breath away. I am consumed by this love, and yet, I fear that it may destroy me. I am torn between the beauty of what I feel and the knowledge that it is forbidden, that it cannot be.

And yet, I write to you now, not because I expect anything from you, but because I can no longer carry this burden alone. I do not wish to remain silent any longer. The love I feel for you is not a fleeting thing, a passing fancy, but something deep and enduring. It is something that has grown over time, something that has taken root in the very core of my being.

I have loved you for so long, Sarah, in ways I never thought possible. I have loved you in silence, in the quiet moments between words, in the space between our breaths. I have loved you with a love that is pure and untainted, a love that defies the constraints of our world. I have loved you with an all-consuming love, a love that has shaped who I am, a love that has made me realize who I want to be.

I write this not in the hope that you will change, not in the hope that you will suddenly see me differently, but simply because I must. I must tell you what is in my heart, what has always been in my heart. I must tell you that you are everything to me and that I cannot continue to live in a world where I am not honest with you.

I do not know what will happen now, Sarah. I do not know if this will change everything between us. I do not know if it will drive a wedge between us that we cannot mend. But I know that I could not bear to keep silent any longer. You deserve to know the truth about my feelings, even if it means risking everything.

Please understand that this confession comes not out of desperation but from a place of love. I do not expect of you, no demand that you return my feelings. I simply ask that you understand the depth of my affection, and the strength of my emotions. I have loved you quietly, patiently, for so long. And now, finally, I speak.

With all the love I have, and all the truth my heart can bear,

Emmeline Moore