Actually I had the idea for the following piece from a story my ex-gf told me which happens to be a shared experience of a classmate of mine. But I guess the male view point has never been explored, currently most college guys will look in mockery at the following piece criticizing the lack of game on the part of the person who is supposed to be the author of the letter but honestly before any of us came to any understanding or possession of what we now recognize as game we were all at this point one stage or another in our life.
All I can say is, it's just a made-up letter to a made up girl so enjoy.
Letter: Unrequited love
Hi,
It feels like I’m standing afar off watching you while you live your life, all the while admiring it in its essence and beauty, wishing to be a part of it, wanting nothing more than an invitation of permanent residency.
It feels like I’m standing on my own, unnoticed, lifeless without your recognition, a vague idea in the recesses of the public mind until your affections give me substance as though my very existence is majorly dependent on your recognition of my presence so I am left helpless, helpless to watch, watch and stare at the magnificence of such unearthly beauty; ebony black hair with a waterfall-like contour as it runs down to your back, the toss of which reveals a face of skin tone out of this world and an excellent choice in perfume, the whiff of which leaves me thinking of the cooling effect of morning dew on grass in colourful meadows and when you rise to walk, you reveal a figure; a true attestation of the fact that we’re all the handiwork and expert craftsmanship of a superior being, you’ve made me a believer! A figure of curves, hills and valleys perfectly bound together to equate to this eye-candy right before my eyes. A figure which reminds me of the leaps and bounds I’m willing to go just so you’d notice me and when you walk, it’s with such grace and elegance as though you just floated by on a cloud; a soothing vision, a vision soothing enough to calm the roughest storm yet somehow its stirs a storm within me, one turbulent enough to rival a typhoon.
It feels like my chest is about to blow up, having been puffed up with all these feelings and things I want to say to you, feelings repressed, statements withheld as the thought of approaching you strikes up fear and anxiety. Not necessarily a fear of rejection, but a fear of the total loss of potential; the potential of what could have been, for I fear that I may not have the right words neither the silk smoothness nor the good looks to keep and hold your attention long enough to win your heart. But what I lack in these I make up for in other areas. Areas not readily accepted nor immediately looked upon as attractive unless presented with expert skill. So I am left longing and waiting, waiting patiently yet while plotting, plotting as an expert strategist, connecting the dots and linking the way to the pulsating division of your bosom; the fort I long to conquer and stake my flag in.
I can make no promises of grandeur but rather of the simple things, simple but of timeless value; promises of loyalty, dependability, of honesty, truthfulness and faithfulness. I can only promise that my two hands will be there to hold you up when you are down, wipe the tear drop off your cheek and hold and comfort you every night. All these I seek to make known to you and to show you the man i can be if given the chance but first things first I am yet to say ‘Hi’.
-The guy sitting next to you.
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