I never wrote anyone so many love letters.
Never even close.
I kept feeling that I needed to know you, connect with you.
I thought it must be real, but then I seemed to make no progress, so I thought it must be just in my head, but then I felt again a special something between us, and so I thought again maybe it’s real.
And on and on for a long time.

Now that it’s all gone wrong, what do I think?, what do I feel?
I think I should’ve taken the opportunity to ask if you ever wanted to get to know me.
That would’ve been nice for both of us.
To have someone gently show his interest is nice.
You could’ve said yes or no and we would’ve known each other further or not, but either way, the essential friendship between us would’ve remained intact. And it would’ve been good.
But instead I threw all my confusions and complications at you.
And that wasn’t nice and wasn’t good and didn’t go well.
I feel sick, sorry, broken, alone, confused.

What’s to be done?
I don’t know.
It would seem there’s nothing to be done — no way to get back to OK.
But please know that when I add up everything inside of me, I find that my feelings for you are more genuine than all my confusions and complications.

I wish I could go back in time and give you a nice little, “What do you think? Me and you? A thought worth pursuing?” And then listen and accept whatever you said. But I can’t go back in time.

I am sorry I didn’t do this right.
I regret it more than I can say.

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