I wish I could muster up the courage to type your name point blank, but I can't. I also wish I could directly tell you all of the things I'm about to write. Finally, I wish you'd reciprocate all my seemingly gay feelings for you. Then again, wishes are wishes, not truths. Still, I'm keeping my fingers crossed that one day you'll like me back.
I have no idea why I've fallen this hard for you - we've never even had a proper conversation. Sure, we may have exchanged a few words to each other at one time or another, but they didn't really have much substance. I must admit, though, that I've learned bits and pieces of your personality through those short exchanges. Albeit that the "conversations" were short-lived, I still managed to derive that you are as crazy, random, weird, and lazy as I am. I guess I shouldn't leave out the fact that I realized your being temperamental at times. That's okay, though, because I am too. Another thing, in all our conversations, you've never failed to make me laugh. And I like that. I like boys who can make me laugh effortlessly.
Though I know that you have this particular vice which is undeniably one of the biggest turn-offs for me, I've wrapped my mind around the fact that you must probably have problems too difficult to deal with at times, and that the stress might be getting too much for you to handle. Perhaps that vice may be the only temporary escape that works for you. So no, when I knew you had that vice, it surprisingly did not "turn me off". (Oh look, I've made up an excuse for you. I must like you a lot.)
I've no idea what's gotten into me, why I can't take you off my petty train of thought. It certainly doesn't help that you are extremely attractive - that smile, well, no words are adequate enough to describe it. But I know I can't have you. Especially not now when I hear you like this other girl, and this other girl likes you back. (Who wouldn't like you back, though?) And that girl is not the only one who vies for your attention; so many others do, as well. What chance would I have against the throng of beautiful faces, or vixens, or intelligent minds that relentlessly chase after you?
Perhaps no matter how many 11:11, shooting star, or eyelash wishes I dedicate to you, you'd never share the feelings I have for you. I will still, however, dedicate all the wishes that I'll be making to you, with high hopes for the impossible.
I'd like to end this very cheeseball letter by thanking you for the luxury of letting me know you, for the luxury of you acknowledging my existence. You might never know how much our few words mean to me.
Love from your almost stalker, Lesh.
Note: This was penned a month ago. I only managed to post it now because I have issues. Okay, yep. Bye.
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