My dearest Belle,

When you have absorbed every book in your library, as I know you will, this letter will give you something new to read. These weeks that I have been human again have been more insightful than I ever could have imagined. I have learned truths about myself I never knew.

I decided to write you this letter to convey the thoughts that I have difficulty putting to words. Every strange feeling I have had since my transformation from Man to Beast. From Beast to Man.

Let me begin with the night you broke the curse. When Mrs. Potts warned me that the castle was under attack, I did not care to stop them. I thought I had lost you and that I would remain a monster for evermore. This realization took me somewhere far from my castle, far from France, to a dark place below the ground where I resigned myself to lie. That was not the first time I had felt that way, but it was the worst. I lost all energy, all motivation. I wanted to sleep.

When I saw you return, that feeling vanished. Your face was all the joy in the world I had forgotten. To see you one last time was a gift, and having received it, I was ready to sleep forever. I am ashamed to say I wanted to. Your face would have been a perfect last memory.

I do not remember hearing you say "I love you," or what it felt like to float in the air and transform in such radiance. I must take your word for how it looked. When I opened my eyes and saw hands and not paws, flesh and not fur, I thought at first I had passed into heaven.

Do you know that when we danced in the Celebration Ball, I thought I would never feel that despair again?

Three days after the ball, I went to the West Wing alone. I intended to clean up the chamber once and for all, to put those memories to rest. As you will know when you read this letter, the West Wing has yet to be cleaned. That is my fault.

When I saw the painting of my younger self that I had ripped apart, I remembered how it felt. The sorrow, the rage. I removed the picture from the wall and flung it across the room. What a thrill the smash gave me! What joy in destruction! I broke statues, ripped curtains. It was only when I cut myself on a fragment of a mirror that I stopped to breathe.

All this when I was human again. How do I justify myself? I am sorry I lied when I told you the wound came from the kitchen. I was not ready to have that talk.

For days I devoted myself to reading books with you, to relearning history, geography, mathematics, all the studies of mankind. I thought reading Shakespeare would bury the Beast beneath the Man. But when I tried to write again, my penmanship was so poor that I tore the parchment in two and flung the desk to the ground. I yelled and cried and felt such shame.

I confess this is not my first attempt to write this letter.

Sometimes the despair struck me at night, when we were lying in bed together. You fall asleep in minutes, but it takes me longer. I have heard the clock strike one, two, even three some nights before I finally sleep. I lie awake and feel I am underground again. As a Beast, I had to fight the urge to sleep all day. As a Man, I have to beg my mind to turn off at night.

On one sleepless night, I climbed out of bed, careful not to wake you. My hair disheveled and only wearing my robe, I walked the hallways and corridors alone without so much as a candle. I wandered outside to the grounds, the gardens, and beyond the gates.

I walked into the woods. It was a full moon, which is perhaps why I felt so restless. Folklore says it brings out the Beast inside of us. The forest was quiet, comforting even, because I felt more at home there than in my castle. The other animals did not dare approach me.

I broke a branch from a tree and beat it against its fellows. I kicked dirt and tore the grass. I wanted to rage and destroy. You must think that a very different feeling from despair, but they are words written on the front and back of a page. Flip one over and you find the other.

There is a pond deep within the woods, and it is there I went. I lifted a large rock and threw it in the water, screaming a primal fury, but when the splash struck my face, I fell to my knees. I looked to the full moon overhead. Again I felt I was deep underground, but there was white light above me. It was like seeing your face in the rain that night. It was a way out of my tunnel.

That night I resolved myself. When I was a Beast, I felt the heartbreak of a Man. Now that I was a Man, I yearned to destroy like a Beast. As rage and despair reflect each other, so too does Man and Beast. This is a truth I have to make peace with and cease my shame.

I know now that the sorrow I felt, the desire to shut my eyes and simply rest forever, will not go away like a spell being broken. In truth, it may never leave me. What I am resolved to do is learn why I feel the way I do, to understand myself better and how to answer my feelings.

I am going to start running each day. Not only is this good exercise, but it puts my primal energy to good use. In the same vein, I am going to practice my swordsmanship. Whenever I feel that destructive urge, I will focus it into this skill. I can destroy dummies and sandbags with a sword just as well as the Beast could with his claws. And dare I say it looks rather dashing?

I have also thought about learning to garden. It is great fun to dig in the earth, but to plant seeds and nourish them takes a certain humanity. I believe this will be good for me. My academic studies will also continue. I may not be the reader you are, but I would like to finish all the plays that Shakespeare wrote. Perhaps you, the staff, and I could act one out.

In these ways, I will nurture both sides of myself. I no longer believe that to be a Beast is inherently wrong and to be a Man is inherently right. I think it is human nature to feel both. And I hope that you will join me one day in cleaning out the West Wing. I did not want to ask the staff to do it. The responsibility is mine, but I would feel safer with you beside me.

I hope this letter helps you understand me better. I want you to know that you are what guides me out of the ground. You make me want to be a better, well, if not Man, then a better Self.

Yours for evermore,

Adam