Never to be Read, Never to be known.

You know I'm not use to doing these sort of things, and I know the possibility of the person I wish to confess too of having read this is beyond ridiculous. In fact, I know, as I type these words that they'll be meaningless and it will be minutes that I'll never be able to get back; although, all the same, despite this inevitable realization, I felt the need to attempt if only to say I gave it a shot. It's not as simple as just going up to you, as easy as it sounds, I neither have the courage nor the gall to just walk up to you and to ask if you'd like to go out to dinner or a movie or hell even a walk. I'm not so brash, so courageous, as to say at your job "Would you like to talk sometime or can I have your number." Although, as a man I know it's my job, the expectation, to be the one to take the initiative and to be the one who has the overwhelming confidence that outshines any doubts.

However, I am not that man. I will never be that man. I can not be that man. What kind of man am I, though you might ask? I am reserved, quiet, and speak only the bare essentials if only to exist should it be to place an order, to speak when spoken too, to ask general questions, or communicate effectively at a job. I am completely Anti-Social: I hate people, completely despise them if only because I know it's so hard, so rare, to find genuine individuals in this world. Completely, ridiculous so to some, isolated and secluded from others that it takes me too long to open up to strangers until I know for absolute certain they are someone worth knowing, someone worth trusting, and someone who I can cherish should it be love or even a friend.

I will never be the "ideal" man: I am not handy, I know next to nothing about cars, and I've, yes, have lived a shelter life. Should it have been because I was hiding from the world; Not so much that I was afraid, no, but I didn't wish to be seen as to avoid the controversy and drama that burden people everyday. It wasn't in my own hesitation of having to be forced to deal with problems, but as to avoid them knowing it could do little good to someone who is already well aware it was a mistake. I lived life cautiously, that is my flaw, and it was because I was smart enough even in my youth to never do this or that because of what would come. In you there is a weakness of wanting to escape the walls of my creation.

I want nothing more than to, in you, let those walls down; However, making the first move means being vulnerable and stupid. To be naive, to be foolish, to be cocky or to be self-absorbed in an ego I do not possess. To have confidence when I have none, to be bold when I am not. Even now as I've changed parts of me there is still resentment in how I feel of myself, and I know my problems go deeper than my inability to confess these feelings I have; I am smart, though, in knowing I can never love another if I can not myself. However, deep down I want someone who can show me a love for myself where I have none. What I wish is that it were you, perhaps, to quench these doubts that linger from adolescence and even today.

I want to know more about you. There is nothing that you could do to steer me away; That is to say, nothing but your word or your request. Should you tell me to flee, never to bother you, I would do so out of respect. Because as the expression goes if you love something you must be able to let it go; It isn't love, I must remind myself, it's just attraction because my brain tells me how I care so deeply for a person I do not know. How can I be so quick to ultimately throw away everything, my defenses, for a single person when they've hardened and made me strong to this very day? If I spoke to you, a confession, you would never know the struggle and I don't believe I could verbally express them any better than these words. I am awkward, remember, and perhaps I say things when I shouldn't nor do I speak when I should. In the end, simply put, I am not perfect; I realize, though, that neither can you be and that in our imperfections we may at least share a friendship. Still, even in the faintest sign of hope, I will never muster up the words or the boldness.

Yet, despite all of these things I am not or what I can not do, there are still things that I can. I'd appreciate you perhaps more than any other; In my eyes you are worth more than myself, I know that it is wrong. Never would you worry about an unfaithful partner if only because how much I'd never wish to loose what we had; Nor would I wish to repeat the mistakes of a father, my own, who made such a mistake. Even in aggravation, in frustration, I'd never raise a hand and I'd try so desperately never to do so with my voice. I would treat you like a person who would love to discuss your ideals, your beliefs, as an equal; even when I know, deep down, I am not an equivalent. Your past mistakes I'd never dare to judge you, nor would I run at the first signs of your baggage; I may not be the strongest person, the most experienced, but I would attempt to shoulder it so that you may shine brilliantly. If you could find yourself able to love such a man, as me, who tries desperately to be a good man and more so a person; If you could sustain my issues, my doubts and problems, I'd treat you as you should every day.

However, how could you? How could I? This is the fate of a loner, the damned, and these woulds or ifs are just imaginary in the daydreams of my creation. Two souls, you and I, to encounter one another on occasion and never to truly know of the other. These words you'll never see, these words do not inspire me, and these sentiments and feelings to grow old and forgotten, just like me. If only because what could be, can never be. After all, I am a fool. A dreamer, stupid, but a fool all the same. Goodnight reader, I tell myself, let tomorrow be but another day. Just like the last, the days to come, an uneventful evening without the one I'd hope to embrace. Nevermore, goodbye.