My dear,
It’s hard to be certain of anything in this world, but I’ve always considered myself one of he lucky few who understands more than most. I see the world for what it is and I know how it works. I also understand myself quite well. I know what I like and dislike, what I want and don’t want. But with you, none of that matters.
I’d do just about anything to make you happy and to see you smile. Of course, even your tears strike me as the most stunning sight. But I wouldn’t ever wish that sadness upon you. I want whatever you want, as if my heart was an echo of yours.
Children disgust me. They’re dirty, loud, slow-witted, and expensive creatures. I don’t want one and I know there is nothing this chaotic, overpopulated world needs less than another human to cause trouble. Yet, if you wanted one, I’d give you a child. And I’d love that child and care for it and spoil the hell out of it.
But what am I saying? I’ve convinced myself that I can’t let you know how I feel. It’s better this way. I don’t need to stir up more drama. No one wants that. Besides, we can’t be together. I know that and you know that, even if you don’t ever think about it.
So I will continue to love you in secret. I’m sure you know. I bet you can see my affection for you on the very air I breathe. I was never good at hiding how I felt. Even so, some things don’t need to be spoken aloud.
Just know that if ever circumstances change, I will cast away everything I think I know and like just to be with you.
Yours always,
Andrew
He Who Wanders 