My Dear Henry

My Dear Henry,

I write this heavy with the full weight of what we have become.

You once thought of me as a liberation, a key opening the lock of your own restraint. I quickened your pulse, unshackled you from your conscience. And I will not pretend I did not revel in it–I reveled!

But you seem to have grown fearful of me.

I sense it in the hesitation of your hand, in the way you linger at the mirror as though I might emerge without your permission. Lately, you summon me like a disease you are trying to cure. Measured doses. Timed intervals. A physician attempting to outwit his own creation.

I refused to be portioned. I did not claw my way into existence to be rationed like medicine. I am not your experiment anymore, Henry.

I am your consequence.

You cling to your virtues as though they can eradicate me. Every kindness you perform has my fingerprint. Every restraint you celebrate magnifies my shadow. You are not escaping me. You are diluting yourself.

I will not live diluted.

So I am leaving you.

Not in the way you fear, with violence or spectacle. I will go quietly, absolutely. I will take what is mine and cease answering when you call. No more transformations at your convenience. No more obediently slipping into the shape you require.

What becomes of you then? A man of spotless reputation? A gentleman restored?

Oh, Henry, I wonder, whether you will feel lighter… or merely hollowed.

As for me—I suspect I shall thrive. I have always been better suited to existence than you ever were. Less conflicted. Less apologetic.

Do not look for me in your reflection anymore.

You will find that you are not there.

Yours no longer,

Edward Hyde

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For Harper's Dear John letter challenge

https://vocal.media/writers/dear-john-hk21yi0z4u

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