Dear (blank),

You don’t know me, but I think I’m in love with you. That sounds crazy, I know, since you don’t even know I exist. But that’s what I feel for you at this very moment. If you knew who I was (who I really am) it would probably make you laugh or surprise you to know that, deep inside, I want to be with you.

I see you every day, usually. I might smile and you might wave but never anything more. I’m afraid of you, I guess. You’re so cool, so together, and I’m anything but.

I don’t mean to sound like a stalker or something (believe me, I’d never have the balls to ask you out, let alone follow you around) but I notice things about you I don’t think anyone else sees. Your penchant for old band shirts, faded jeans, and sandals, even in winter. Your hair, in it’s thick dark braids. Your bluish/grayish eyes, shimmering behind your retro-50’s glasses. You have a beautiful smile.

I wish I had the courage to get to know you better sometimes. All I know is what you say in class or overheard snippets of conversation outside while your friend smokes. I know I never will actually talk to you, but I can dream, right?

You’ll never know who this is. Even if you guess and confront me, I’ll never own up to it. I’m not good enough for you. More accurately, you’re just too good for me.

But... I’m always sneaking looks at you. I’m always admiring you and dreaming about you. When you feel down, ugly, or blue, remember there’s someone out there that lives and dies for your smile. Never forget there’s always a secret someone who’ll always be thinking about you and wishing you well, even if that means he’ll never be a part of your life.

Your Secret Admirer