Dear Best Friend,
Here's something you will never know: I am in love with you. It's not exactly the first time I've fallen in love, but it's still new. I thought I was used to this: I've fallen in love with too many fictional characters, straight/taken women and celebrities to say otherwise. I never expected I'd fall in love with you. You've been around me for four years, and you're one of my best friends. I would never even dream about inflicting myself upon you.
A wise word to those who may stumble upon this letter: Not all stories end happily. He and I are both moving to different corners of the continent and, although we may reunite in a few years, things between us will never work out. Why? Well, he doesn't love me.
As I've already mentioned, I should be used to this feeling of incompletion. It's not like I'm good-looking, or have a good body. And with a personality like this, I can see why no one's ever approached me for these past 21 years of my life. It's not like romantic love has ever worked out for me before. I don't even think I know what that feels like. Except...
Except, when I'm attracted to people, I imagine them in various states of undress. But all I want from you is chaste kisses and your arms around me as we talk the night away.
Except- I hate cliches, but all the love songs (especially the sad ones) seem to be about you and me, and even 8 hours of time in your company seem lacking.
Except, I thought romantic love, finding a romantic partner and marrying them was all bullshit; part of a life I'd never have; until I realised I want all that with you.
Except, I want to know everything about you and I want to smash every wall I've put up to let you in.
Except; I almost never cry over people, but whenever I think about telling you and losing you forever, I wake up with tear stains on my pillow.
You will never know all this, though. This is a secret that I will take to my grave, that will pierce daggers through my chest when you inevitably introduce me to a pretty, well-accomplished young woman who you will marry. When she has your children, and you joke about naming one after me.
Some people may think that I should tell you that I love you so much it scares me. That I lose sleep over you, concocting scenarios that will never happen. But I won't do that to you. I can't. I can't inflict myself, with all my flaws and my fucked-up issues, on anyone. Especially not you. I love you too much for that. You don't deserve that. And I definitely don't deserve you. You're too pure to be corrupted by someone like me. You deserve someone much, much better than me. Someone who you don't have to handle, someone who won't shut you out or build walls or make protocols to keep herself sane. Someone who'll be able to tell you that she loves you to your face instead of waxing poetic in an open letter. Because, even if you love me back by some magical fluke, I would rather you were with anyone else than me.
So, you may never know, but I love all of you, as you are. I hope I'm always in your life, on the sidelines. Maybe it'll hurt less as the years go by. I hope you find someone that deserves you, and I will pray that I forget these feelings before death takes me.
I love you.
Your Best Friend