To whom it may concern,

I think I'm finally where I need to be. When I look around, at the people passing by, I see what they are made of, all meat and worries and hope. It seems simple, what we do everyday, but it's not. It's not at all. Everyday is a battle of fears and nerves and love, and we barely even realize it. It seems contradictory, but the more I have to worry about the more I fill with love. It may look bad on the outside, me spinning and crashing into myself. But from the inside view, this is what it's all about. I am here to tell a story, and a story without fear, without unease, is barely a story at all. Sometimes it takes pain to remind us we have a soul. I have finally realized the truth, that everything bad is really good, if you just dig a little deeper. I hope you get the chance to dig.

Love,

Robbie

Dear Sam,

So now you know. I'm still waiting to hear your reaction. I saw you this morning, walking past, but you just looked at me funny, then I looked away. I am, in general, an uncomfortable person. This situation is not ideal. But I wanted you to know how I felt about you, and I wanted to try something new. I've never been honest with a person like this. What the hell am I talking about, I'm not being honest. I had someone else tell you, instead of doing it myself. I am still waiting to talk to you. It better happen today, because I am freaking out over how anxious I am. There are lots of ways this could go, some good and some bad. Of course, there is the chance that you'll feel the same about me and everything will be perfect. I'm trying not to think about that option, for fear of getting my hopes too high. Now, you could also remain completely straight, but still be cordial and nice about it all. That wouldn't be horrible. It would crush me, but hey. I'm used to it. You could react negatively too I guess, but I have faith you won't. I'm only writing this to kill time, to maybe try and be less anxious.

It isn't working. We need to talk.

Love,
R

Dear Mitch,

I am writing you this to let you know you are absolutely beautiful. I don't know if that means anything to you, especially coming from me, but I though I should let you know. Sometimes, I can't stop looking at you. I really don't think you are aware of this fact. You'll find out someday; I hope it doesn't ruin you.

Love,

Rob

Dear Julie,

You're right. I'm falling, but I can't let you know. I lied to you, told you I was better than before. I'm not, I'm not at all. It doesn't get any better, it just gets more familiar. But I can't let anyone know, not yet. I can't let anyone know how easily I am ruined. I feel as though if I let an ounce of my weakness show, my composure will shatter completely. And right now, you need me more. I don't know if I can handle being your rock anymore, but I love you too much not to try. And so, if I tell anyone how I truly feel, it won't be you. Not yet.

Love,

Rob

Dear Sam,

I don't know if you've noticed it yet, even though I am pretty certain it's terribly obvious. I am falling for you, fast. It happened quickly, more so than I am comfortable with. I barely talked to you before the weekend. We were acquaintances, at least in my view. Then, you were there, for some reason, on the weekend. We joked, and I just started to feel something. I noticed you were cute; for some reason I hadn't before. I don't remember if it happened that day or earlier, but my friend made a joke about cutting. You told me you didn't like jokes about cutting. Did you mean for that to be a confession to me? It got worse at the dance that night. When I saw you sitting there, I had to try and help. You were so clearly depressed, and I have a problem with walking away from depressed people. And, as much as I am ashamed of being so shallow, I wanted to help you because I was starting to fall for you. You're cute, you're funny, and for some reason, you decided to confide in me. We talked for what was basically the rest of that night. You told me things you didn't tell others. I saw you at your lowest point. I don't know why you chose me, why you decided to let me in. I guess I was persistent, but you could have easily just ignored me. You didn't. If you hadn't, I doubt I would be where I am now in regards to my feelings for you. I can't say why, but having someone open up to you, and being able to connect them, it makes a person fall in love very easily.
What I am leaving out here is that you were telling me of how you fell in love with a girl. The tragedy here is beautiful; it could be a script, I swear. Now, you are around all the time. I think about you all the time. Hell, I'm writing this letter to you. An angrier me would resent the fact you opened up to me. I don't. I know exactly how you feel, and how much you needed to tell someone about it. And, though it may be selfish of me, I'm glad you chose me. I like being someone's confidant, the person they let in. It feels like I'm making a difference, at least to one person. We've talked a lot since this weekend, but not seriously again. I know it's only been a week, but it's felt like years. I don't know how this is going to play out. I am pretty sure at some point you will realize how I feel about you, It's obvious, I believe. I have a hard time controlling how I act around you. And I don't know how you will react. The irrational part of me believes that you will love me back, and we will be together; I'll finally have someone to hold, to love. If I could make that belief go away, if I could be your friend without loving you like this, I would. But I am a creature of desire, and all I want is you.

Love,

Rob

Dear Ben,

I am writing this to you to let you know that I never got over you. I doubt you even know I was in a position where getting over you was possible., so let me explain: I was head over heels in love with you. You were the first I ever loved. Every day was just a long wait for the last period, where I could sit next to you. You'd make me laugh. I was the only one who heard the things you said under your breath. If I was lucky, you'd hug me. You don't know how much you meant to me. I was just coming into myself, realizing who I was and what I wanted, and I needed something to latch on to. When you let me hold you, when you joked around with me, I knew who I was; I was a person who needed you. Now, in a mind less fogged with unrequited love, I realize that you were just another guy who, confident in his sexuality, felt some strange need to feign affection for other males. The humor in that is lost on me. Then again, I am on the receiving end. I have never been good at controlling romantic desire; I know my flaws. If you knew how I felt, I am sure you would have stopped. But I still remember one day in class, where we were bored and suddenly, you reached out and grabbed my hand. I don't know how long it actually lasted, but it felt like a lifetime. When you let go, you laughed and smiled at me. I still don't know what to make of that. Were you kidding? Were you finally being serious? Did you want to be with me, or not? Because honestly, there was only so much I could take. I convinced myself we were meant to be together, whether you liked me or not. I threw myself into a fit. To be honest, I barely even remember that time. I shut it out of my brain, those few months where I fell so low. I'm not even sure exactly what happened. I know these things: I wanted to die. I wrote a letter to my parents, telling them I was gay. My mom cried. My dad was silent. I told them I was depressed. I went to a therapist. I took some tests. I got diagnosed. My dad and I decided it would be better if I didn't take medication. Eventually, my parents got over it. They're even starting to talk about it casually occasionally now. But sometimes I doubt myself. I can barely remember going to a therapist. Those months, however, are gone, and I am beyond that. But you, whether you know it or not, are tied to that section of my life. You are intrinsically a part of me coming into full being. You may not even remember me any more. We haven't talked in over a year. I miss you. I will never forget you.


Love,
Rob.