Guest Writer My beloved Paul Austero,,
Since the first time I saw you, it has been over two and a half years. I love seeing you wear that polo shirt with the blue, white, and red pattern on it. Or you might take it as a compliment that I call you “Uniqlo Guy.” In addition, it has been two and a half years since I first started developing feelings for you. In all candor, I have no idea how that came to pass. We were pals. I am aware that you are treating me in the same manner that you treat your other pals, but my God, whenever you do things for me, I genuinely feel as though I am somebody unique. Even if it’s something as basic as doing something, I get butterflies in my stomach whenever I think about it.
I just don’t have the words to convey the spark you bring to my heart, or perhaps there are no words that can ever do so. The butterflies who transform into monstrous beings once I am in your presence: this is how I want each passing second, minute, hour, and day to look. However, I am aware that something like that will never take place. as if I were expecting pigs to fly.
In any case, despite the fact that I may have already denied this a great number of times, I am aware that I do not only “like” you. I love you. I’m reaching out to you because I want to be completely honest about how I feel about you. But… I just can’t do it.
Paul, I have never loved anyone else as much as I love you, and I don’t think I ever will. I almost never experience feelings this intense. Never before have I been so completely enthralled by another person as I am by you right now. You’re very precious. You are really important to me. The mere sight of your beautiful smile is enough to send my spirit soaring with happiness. My love, I value you more than you give me credit for thinking I do.
With love,
Hersheys
