Classic Love Letter: F.Scott Fitzgerald to Zelda Sayre

The source I got this letter from claims that this was written by F.Scott Fitzgerald to Zelda Sayre, but reading the letter, it says otherwise. Either way, this letter has the closest resemblance to my own state of love affair. :) While reading it, I couldn't help but think I was the addressee. :)

Francis Scott Fitzgerald

Born Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald September 24, 1896 St. Paul, Minnesota, USA Died December 21, 1940 (aged 44) Hollywood, Los Angeles, California, USA Occupation novelist, short story writer, poet Nationality American Period 1920–40 Genres Modernism Literary movement Lost Generation

*He is widely regarded as one of the greatest American writers of the 20th century.

*He finished four novels: This Side of Paradise, The Beautiful and Damned, Tender is the Night and his most famous, The Great Gatsby.
*Scott and Zelda were married in New York's St. Patrick's Cathedral. Their only child, Frances Scott Fitzgerald, was born on October 26, 1921 and passed away on June 16, 1986. (wikipedia.org)

Love Letter from F. Scott Fitzgerald to Zelda Sayre

Spring 1919

Sweetheart,

Please, please don't be so depressed -- We'll be married soon, and then these lonesome nights will be over forever -- and until we are, I am loving, loving every tiny minute of the day and night -- Maybe you won't understand this, but sometimes when I miss you most, it's hardest to write -- and you always know when I make myself -- Just the ache of it all -- and I can't tell you. If we were together, you'd feel how strong it is -- you're so sweet when you're melancholy. I love your sad tenderness -- when I've hurt you -- That's one of the reasons I could never be sorry for our quarrels -- and they bothered you so -- Those dear, dear little fusses, when I always tried so hard to make you kiss and forget --

Scott -- there's nothing in all the world I want but you -- and your precious love -- All the material things are nothing. I'd just hate to live a sordid, colorless existence -- because you'd soon love me less -- and less -- and I'd do anything -- anything -- to keep your heart for my own -- I don't want to live -- I want to love first, and live incidentally -- Why don't you feel that I'm waiting -- I'll come to you, Lover, when you're ready -- Don't don't ever think of the things you can't give me -- You've trusted me with the dearest heart of all -- and it's so damn much more than anybody else in all the world has ever had --

How can you think deliberately of life without me -- If you should die -- O Darling -- darling Scott -- It'd be like going blind. I know I would, too, -- I'd have no purpose in life -- just a pretty -- decoration. Don't you think I was made for you? I feel like you had me ordered -- and I was delivered to you -- to be worn -- I want you to wear me, like a watch -- charm or a button hole boquet -- to the world. And then, when we're alone, I want to help -- to know that you can't do anything without me.

I'm glad you wrote Mamma. It was such a nice sincere letter -- and mine to St. Paul was very evasive and rambling. I've never, in all my life, been able to say anything to people older than me -- Somehow I just instinctively avoid personal things with them -- even my family. Kids are so much nicer.