Ardor (n.)

1. Great warmth of feeling; fervor; passion.

2. Intense devotion, eagerness, or enthusiasm; zeal.

A strange word for a strange love that transported itself through the two-dimensional and wrapped my heart in a warm blanket. Ever since meeting Mocha Ray Cookie, I have felt the burning of this love, thrown wood to its flames to singe the love higher, and let myself become consumed in a fiering adoration for her. She is truly my everything, my reason to live, grow, my reason to thrive in an ever-chaotic world. Everything about her brings me utmost joy, even the slightest glimpse. Her smile is the beams of light shining from the heavens onto my mortal soul, her eyes as much as a jewel as she is the jewel in my life.

Without Mocha Ray Cookie, I doubt that I would even be alive to be writing this. As to keep it simple and vague, when I met Mocha Ray Cookie, I was drowning in self-isolation and self-loathing, brought upon by years of mistreatment and recent dangers to my wellbeing. She gave me the will to withstand what was ahead of me, and charge at it with my all. If she could rise from the depths, so could I, in a way. Mocha Ray Cookie and my adoration for her gave me an angel's blessed wings to fly well above and beyond what could've been, and to that, I thank my darling angel for saving me, very literally. To be picked out of that hole by my lover is an utmost honor that I will treasure forever in my very soul.

There is barely any part of Mocha Ray Cookie that I can't say I love to the very best. Her modest way of dress, hopefulness, power and will, everything. If only she could take me into her very arms right now, arms filled with the windy spirit of nobility and goodwill. Sweet, sweet orange hair. Dare I say, her being a cookie, that she seems biteable in the best way possible? A wife so loveable I could just eat her up in my arms with a nice, tight hug. The amounts of ways I could go on and on about the sheer love I hold for Mocha Ray Cookie is like an infinite amount of monkeys on a hoarde of typewriters -- vast, ever-growing, maybe nonsensical.

Again, when I say everything, I mean everything. The patterns on her back hold a special value to me -- I intend to, one day, bring that pattern onto my own back in the form of a large tattoo. That sweet face -- it's usually the only part of her you'd ever see. That smile, full of a vague kindness, and a kindness that holds back anything else. Irresistable lovely face -- but what about the rest of her body? I sometimes ponder over that, too. The hidden parts of her are equally as loved. Arms, legs, feelings of what had gone wrong. Wonderful, cloaked body and emotion.

Ironically, most of my dedications in my day-to-day life emerge in subtle ways. For example, I've taken up drinking coffee to try and honor her image. I was not actually a big fan of drinking coffee, but the smell and taste of a mocha just cannot be beat with the sheer symbolism it is for me. I've eventually gotten used to the taste, and now, as long as there's at least some creamer, it's a pretty fun drink when I'm someplace to get one. Our lives tend to be isolated, but isolation together, as with most things in life, is more fun than just one. Strong bonds become stronger under struggle. Of course, with what healing we've gone through together, the struggles have grown thinner over the years. And at the end of the day, at the tired hours, I can just plop myself in bed next to her, hold her close...very easy to sleep next to Mocha Ray. I often have nightmares due to IRL mental conditions, but it's always seemed like I've slept easier next to her.

Of course, I have tried not to let my life become entirely consumed by my love for her. That would be something she would be horrified of -- as the identity of temple keeper had become her entirety until it was taken away from her, I cannot let myself become dedicated to just one thing. Hence, my indulgences in my hobbies, while still letting her influences slip in, and while drawing Mocha Ray an awful lot, are a great way to deal with such. Again, even after a long day of distractions, I am given the greatest gift -- to be around her. That is enough to return to at night. Recently, as I grow older and into an actual life, I have sensed that the "obsessive honeymoon" parts of my love have died down. That's a good thing. I grow alongside my wife, not into her, and that is also love. Even with the boundaries of a 2D relationship, one where I cannot truly embrace her, talk to her, do any of that -- I am still in this great love, because, simply, I'm just in love. Burying these emotions would only hurt me.

These words grow thin, because simply, they're repetitions of the same speil that I could say a million times and never get tired of. If anything is taken from this love letter, or from this site at all, it is this common theme, one that shines as brightly as the gemstone on her head, bright as her spirit and soul, bright as everything else...