Having feelings for you is the most frustrating thing sometimes. It’s not just that I think you’re physically gorgeous, you are, but it’s your personality too. We’ve spent over a year living together, and honestly, I’ve come to truly love everything about you. You’re a beautiful person, and, in so many ways, everything I hope to find in a partner someday.
But you’re gay, and I can’t fault you for that. Hell, to do so would make me the worst kind of person. It is in this basic fundamental way that we are incompatible, and sometimes it makes me want to cry. There is a sensation in me that is eating me alive because of it.
And still, I’ll say nothing about it. You have a girlfriend, and it is within my sensibilities to respect that. Every time you’ve asked me for advice with your girlfriend, I have answered in earnest, even though I could’ve manipulated you into breaking up. I have always tried to do the morally right thing between us, and I intend to keep doing that. Selfishness has no place here.
It sounds Freudian, but in many ways you remind me of my mother. You embody her gentleness, her encouragement, and her love. You build people up, and make people feel okay about being alive and being human. We can talk for hours about hundreds of topics, and at the same time, you can teach me so many things about life that I’d otherwise probably ignore.
You represent everything that I love in a human being, and it pains me that I’ll never be able to tell you how much I truly love you. Someday, I can only hope to find someone half as amazing as you are.
I love you, but I’ll never be able to say how much. And that’s okay.