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This is for... well, that's none of your business

The hardest things about unrequited love are not that I can't hold you in my arms, that I will never know the taste of your lips, that I can't make love to you. Those things can be difficult, but they aren't the hardest things. It's being unable to send you the love letters, being unable to brush that lock of hair back from your face, and to smile at your beauty as I do it. It is being unable to do all of the infinitesimal things that love requests me to do that really drives me mad. Love is like that. It desires, of it's own accord, to be expressed in some form. It is a constant force, driving my actions, telling me to reach out and just touch you, only for an instant, just the slightest brush of my fingertips against your face. Sometimes I think the endless bliss of such a thing would be enough to stop my heart. And what a sublime way it would be to go. Love moves all on its own. It requires no encouragement and no motivation. It is as if some sort of intricate and beautifully delicate perpetual motion machine has been set loose inside of me. Only you could do this. I cannot stop it and I cannot let it run free. It runs and runs, and I wonder what it would sound like if it were a real motor turning within me. An exquisite sweet hum, and perhaps a sound like wind chimes on a summer afternoon. Still, the actions which it desires must be held in check. To use a silly metaphor that only a girl as wonderful as you would appreciate, I have to hold my foot on the clutch all day long.

It's all worth it though. I still get to write the love letters, even if I can't send them. And I get to see that lock of hair fall down across your face, even if I can't touch it. Perhaps once in a great while you might accidentally brush against me with your hand, and even if it does not stop my heart, please do not be surprised when I stumble in mid-step because my knees have given way, and my voice falters as I try to explain the simple workings of a distributor cap. Only you could do this, and I would only ever want you to be the one who led me to such a state.