This isn't a love letter.
Dear [____],
I know this is long, and I understand if it feels overwhelming. Before you start reading, please understand that I may sound delusional, strange, and even confusing. This isn’t a love letter; it’s just a collection of everything I’ve been thinking about you.
I honestly don’t know where to begin, so I’m just going to speak from the heart. I’m tired of pretending. I’ve spent so much time hiding how I feel, but I thought if I wrote you this letter, you might finally understand me. Though, deep down, I think you probably already do.
Still, I’m a coward for not saying this to your face. Maybe I already know what your response would be, or maybe I’m just used to hearing the same things. So I keep quiet, especially because I value our closeness so much. I don’t want to risk losing what we have by wishing for something I’m not even sure I could get.
But even so, before I wrote this, I really hoped you’d receive letters from others, too—maybe because I feared you’d be disappointed that it was me who wrote this.
******, this letter probably won’t make you feel warm and fuzzy inside. In fact, it may even make you feel uncomfortable. But I’ve tried my best to understand you, to be there for you, and to learn what you love and what you don’t. I wanted to know what makes you happy and what might upset you, so I’d know where to draw the line. I listened carefully, from your thoughts on the kind of partner you want, to the little things that happen in your day-to-day life. I set boundaries for myself because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I knew when to take a step back.
None of this is meant to be a list of things you owe me. It’s just me showing you the things I’ve been willing to do for you, out of love. So please, don’t feel like you have to repay me for anything.
I avoided you before because I knew you’d respond to my apology, and maybe fear just took over. That’s why I distanced myself. In that moment, the only thing that mattered to me was apologizing, learning from my mistakes, and moving forward. Maybe I was just in shock, but what was I even thinking?
The truth is, I don’t like admitting it, but sometimes, yes, I get jealous. It bothers me to see you do things for other people that you don’t do for me. And I feel guilty for feeling that way, like I’m a bad person for it. I know I have no right to feel jealous, because you’re not mine. All of this is just my own perspective.
But I’ve been pretending—for the sake of keeping you. I’ve been pretending because it hurts less. I’ve been pretending because I wanted to hold on to what we have. And I would give up a piece of myself just to keep you near me, to laugh with you, to share time together, to eat together. So yes, I genuinely enjoy being by your side.
Have you noticed it? The way I search for you in a crowded room with my eyes? The way I say your name, even in the most casual way? Little do you know, it’s become a word I say without even thinking. It’s the one thing that fills my mind every day. Because maybe it’s not just a crush. I’m drawn to you. I’m drawn to us.
I hate admitting this, but I’m opening up, exposing the most fragile parts of myself—the blooms of flowers, the butterflies and moths, the roses that have withered, the scars that still bleed, and a heart that barely beats, wondering if this unrequited love will ever grow into something more.
I know this is long, and I understand if it feels overwhelming. Before you start reading, please understand that I may sound delusional, strange, and even confusing. This isn’t a love letter; it’s just a collection of everything I’ve been thinking about you.
I honestly don’t know where to begin, so I’m just going to speak from the heart. I’m tired of pretending. I’ve spent so much time hiding how I feel, but I thought if I wrote you this letter, you might finally understand me. Though, deep down, I think you probably already do.
Still, I’m a coward for not saying this to your face. Maybe I already know what your response would be, or maybe I’m just used to hearing the same things. So I keep quiet, especially because I value our closeness so much. I don’t want to risk losing what we have by wishing for something I’m not even sure I could get.
But even so, before I wrote this, I really hoped you’d receive letters from others, too—maybe because I feared you’d be disappointed that it was me who wrote this.
******, this letter probably won’t make you feel warm and fuzzy inside. In fact, it may even make you feel uncomfortable. But I’ve tried my best to understand you, to be there for you, and to learn what you love and what you don’t. I wanted to know what makes you happy and what might upset you, so I’d know where to draw the line. I listened carefully, from your thoughts on the kind of partner you want, to the little things that happen in your day-to-day life. I set boundaries for myself because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I knew when to take a step back.
None of this is meant to be a list of things you owe me. It’s just me showing you the things I’ve been willing to do for you, out of love. So please, don’t feel like you have to repay me for anything.
I avoided you before because I knew you’d respond to my apology, and maybe fear just took over. That’s why I distanced myself. In that moment, the only thing that mattered to me was apologizing, learning from my mistakes, and moving forward. Maybe I was just in shock, but what was I even thinking?
The truth is, I don’t like admitting it, but sometimes, yes, I get jealous. It bothers me to see you do things for other people that you don’t do for me. And I feel guilty for feeling that way, like I’m a bad person for it. I know I have no right to feel jealous, because you’re not mine. All of this is just my own perspective.
But I’ve been pretending—for the sake of keeping you. I’ve been pretending because it hurts less. I’ve been pretending because I wanted to hold on to what we have. And I would give up a piece of myself just to keep you near me, to laugh with you, to share time together, to eat together. So yes, I genuinely enjoy being by your side.
Have you noticed it? The way I search for you in a crowded room with my eyes? The way I say your name, even in the most casual way? Little do you know, it’s become a word I say without even thinking. It’s the one thing that fills my mind every day. Because maybe it’s not just a crush. I’m drawn to you. I’m drawn to us.
I hate admitting this, but I’m opening up, exposing the most fragile parts of myself—the blooms of flowers, the butterflies and moths, the roses that have withered, the scars that still bleed, and a heart that barely beats, wondering if this unrequited love will ever grow into something more.
