Having settled on your name to begin my letter, I now take on the herculean task of telling you everything, in hopes that writing about it will unburden me and set me free. These words have been buried deep for so long that now, they've started threatening to erupt out of me. I try to swallow and push them back, but they've grown impatient, like a dry cough bubbling to the surface and raking your body even if you try to suppress it. So I've come to a point where letting it all out is the only way for me to save myself.

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I don't know where to begin. It's been so long that I've loved you from a distance, safely enclosing these feelings in my bosom, revelling in this ever so strong unrequited emotion, that the act of writing a letter and sharing my feelings with you now feels too intimate.

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Now that Ive decided to pour my heart out, I'm inundated with doubts. How do you address someone who means the world and beyond to you? Someone that you deeply respect and admire, and love to the point of reverence. The word 'dear' feels rather inadequate. I think hard and close my eyes, picturing you. I finally decide that there's no better way to start, than my calling out your name. Just your name. Because your very name stirs my soul. And because your name itself flows like a prayer on my lips.

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Some days, I feel I'm not fully prepared to share this love that I've nurtured all alone over the years with anyone. Not even you. For now, it's safe within the confines of my heart but I'm scared that if I let it loose, you'll never be able to understand it and that the passion and intensity would overwhelm you and make you bolt. I don't know if I'm ready for that. Perhaps, I'll never be completely ready to bare my soul to you. But then again, I think to myself, what if you reciprocate? Even the thought is enough to take my breath away. And so, I decide that it's a risk worth taking and feeling emboldened, I even take a step further and dare to hope.

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While your presence in my life almost feels like the fulfillment of a wish for a miracle, that I made upon a shooting star once upon a time, the fact that we're not together feels like a humourless joke being played on me, the wish being almost granted, but not completely so. I choose to get played by this malicious fate, for it lets you stay in my life in some capacity, albeit not one of my choosing. But I will take that, any given day. So I choose to self immolate in this fire, burning my own self for the glow, without a care for the consequences. I know it'll hurt later but for now, the light from the fire brings me hope and warmth.

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With my heart on my sleeve, my core exposed and my feelings flowing on this paper today, I come to you not as the shy, reticent girl that you've always seen me as, from a distance, but as the bold, self-assertive woman that I've always been, up close.
And I want to tell you this. I don't have fancy words to win your heart. I'm just an ordinary woman, but I'm capable of showing you an extraordinary love.

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I have to sputter out the initial few words but soon, they flow of their own accord from the nib of my pen, like a gentle stream meandering it's course smoothly even through difficult terrain. Today, words of longing and love seem to finally ooze out of me and they feel like my soul being inscribed on paper. I recall our first encounter and how your presence instantly put me at ease. It's been years but everytime we meet, you still have the same effect on me.

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.....

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Often, I feel that loving with such depth is a curse in itself. I've always felt everything a little too hard. My love for you is no exception. I watch you from a distance and I crave to bridge the gap between us. But I also want to respect your boundaries. And so, I find solace in maintaining this distance between us. Each night, I dig a grave, wallowing in my sorrow. I bury my feelings in it, only to find that they've taken root again the next morning, growing like that unruly stubborn weed that keeps popping up in your garden, no matter how many times you try to uproot it.

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I doubt that this one word, Waldosia, will encompass the range of emotions I wish to convey to you. I don't know if it'll tell you that when I'm looking for you in these unlikely places, my heart beats wildly if I see someone vaguely similar to you. Or that if I get as much as a whiff of the fragrance that you wear, on someone else, it aches my heart with longing. Or that I'm filled with sorrow when I look around for you and don't find you anywhere. Or that in my fruitless search for you, to console myself, I imagine you with me already, to pull myself out of this misery that unrequited love can sometimes land me in.

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