Dear R,

to be completely honest, i've spent the better part of an hour trying to find a way to write this without sounding utterly melodramatic, but i suppose some things are inherently theatrical.

we've existed in each other's orbits for three years now, and for the entirety of that time, my feelings for you have been a constant, quiet hum in the background of everything i do. it's a strange sort of endurance, loving someone for that long without ever really saying it out loud.

i've always thought you were the most beautiful person i've ever encountered, but it's not just the aesthetic of you. it's the way you become entirely incandescent when you talk about the things you love. watching you talk about the things you're passionate about, the ones you put your whole soul into, feels like a glimpse of something celestial. it's a form of heaven i didn't think was accessible to a mortal through a mere conversation.

if i'm being completely transparent, i admire you with an intensity that borders on the transgressive. certainly more than i should, given the circumstances. i remember mentioning my admiration for you once, and you looked at me with such genuine disbelief, as if the very idea was a symptom of insanity. you told me i shouldn't, like an unsettling warning i've never quite been able to heed. i only wish you could see yourself through my eyes for a moment, maybe then you'd understand why your caution felt so futile.

i am acutely, painfully aware that you've been with someone else for the last two years. i respect that boundary, truly, but it doesn't stop the persistent, irrational wish that you were mine.

i just needed you to know, even if this letter remains a ghost between us.