Love Letter

Dear ----
I love you. It is hard to imagine, harder even for me to believe...but it is true. It will surely never make sense and it will sooner make sense than it could ever happen. And yet, I can't stop thinking about you, I know of course that this is wrong so I try earnestly to pry you from my thoughts, but it's impossible-you're inevitable, you're everywhere. I read my books every word is your name to me, between every set of quotation marks the few but precious words you've ever said to me. I listen to my music every note sounds like you to me, every line, every stanza, just inflaming my affection even more than it was beforehand.
I fancy you are one of the most outstanding men I have ever met. One of the few who have ever been capable of captivating my attention for more than a moment's time, also one of the few who have ever proven this time well spent. Know,however, that this is wasted on me, even if it was to be I would fail us miserably, I tend to fail most things that depend on my sufficiency for their survival. I know that I am not perfect, as well as I am sure you do, but when your eyes meet mine, when you say my name, I feel like I am, I, if nothing else, feel like I could anything. Let heaven; let hell come, the worst suffering in the world! I do not care, but let me face it with you and I know I will have the strength to conquer. I know that I am annoying, obstinate, not all too intelligent, and am often misunderstood, I know that I am not worth half the troubles I cause, but also I must hope that I know the adventurer in you well enough to know you could never love someone who was too terribly easy to hold on to.
But alas, there is one predicament facing my previous statement, the other. Do not think me naïve. I know I fight for your love against an opponent much better prepared, better armed than I. She knows you much better, and you two tend to laugh over things that no one should find funny. Do not get me wrong, I love your laugh, and generally whatever oddity it takes to procure this joy is well worthwhile. It is just when she is the inducement that it irks me so. Poor soul, despite her earnest attempts at forming a friendship with me, I can feel nothing but ill will towards her, for your sake.
I know; however, that this is ridiculous, consider it the petty ramblings of a young lover. I know not if you have her affection nor if you even want it for that matter. Still it irks me to the deepest part of my core to so much as see you with her. A plausible explanation of such feelings is unattainable, thus, I will not even attempt one. I cannot of course imagine you don't love her. I have seen her, I have spoken with her, and I find her lovely. Yet I seem to have found not nearly as much pleasure in neither her countenance nor her spirits as it would seem you have.
Do not, however, misunderstand me; I do think you outstanding, and the one who currently possesses your affection completely unworthy, I do not, however, see myself as worthy of these affections I long for so dearly. I beg you can understand how I feel, please pardon my senseless emotions and remember me not for them; instead, remember me for the moments when I was completely sane, showing no emotion, and was still completely in love with you. So, in closing, I pray that you may at least think of me often. So that those moments when I cannot sleep at night and I lie awake thinking of you, I can know that my name runs through your mind, even if it is not allowed to tramp through the recesses of your heart.
I know that we cannot be, but know that in my heart you are mine just as in my heart I am wholly yours,
Anonymous