The letter

Dear X

I hope you're fine and everything is good. How's the weather?

That's a lame beginning for a letter, I know, but also the usual, right? It is not what I want to say to you and therefor not why I am writing this letter. The two things are linked in the way, that it drives me crazy that I can't tell you what I want to tell you any other way. And this fact is upping my stress levels, not letting me sleep at night and causing me to have all kinds of stress related anxiety. Crazy, I know. It's not something I can stop by telling it to stop though. So, I am writing you this letter.

I don't know when my obsession with you started. Yes, I am calling it obsession, because infatuation or crush or love would mean I actually know you. I don't. 

It wasn't when I saw you in person the first time, I think. Looking back, I instantly liked you, but it wasn't this thought consuming, insomnia causing feeling, that I have now.

However you were so out of my league, that I didn't even dare talking to you.

It was the video that started the obsession, I think. You were so adorable and nervous and funny. When I wrote to you afterwards, I deleted draft after draft and what I finally sent you was a version when I thought "This is ridiculous, just send the damn mail"; and so I did.

I didn't really think you would reply. And if you replied, I thought you'd deny my request. Never in a million years did I think that you would reply the way you did. Your reply showed that you felt the same connection and kinship for me, that I felt for you. The words we exchanged in the weeks afterwards were the highlights of my days.  I never had that with anyone.

And then you stopped writing. I think it must have been something I wrote, because it was so sudden. My mails were getting longer, yours shorter, and then you stopped. I wanted to send you a mail, asking if you were ok, if I had written something to upset you. Yet, I didn't dare.

I sent you a mail months later for Christmas, that I also sent to all other people in my contact list. You didn't reply. I really wondered and worried that something had happened to you.

I never forgot about you. Sometimes I re-read your words. Sometimes I re-watched your video. I never thought about writing to you again, because I didn't want to annoy you. You made it clear with your silence that you didn't want any contact.

It took me a long time to accept not only in my head, but also in my heart, that there would be no more contact. I even managed to stop the obsession. When I thought about you, it made me smile, but the nervous feeling in my gut was gone.

Two years after your last letter you wrote to me again. My first though was that your email account had been hacked and I actually checked the address to make sure it wasn't spam mail. The mail sounded like you, though. It made me smile when I first read it. It offered no explanation for your silence, nor for breaking your silence. It only said you'd been thinking of me. Do you even know what that sentence did to me?

Not replying was out of the question and I think I made it clear, that I was happy to hear from you. I asked how you were. I kept it short, so I wouldn't scare you off again.

I never got a reply. It's been months and still nothing. And it has been driving me crazy that I have more questions than answers. Before, I was thinking it was my fault and you simply didn't want anything to do with me anymore. I was embarrassed and hurt, but I accepted it. 

This time, I simply don't know what to think.

Why would you write to me after two years of silence without any explanation for your silence, not even a lame one? Why were you thinking of me? What made you think of me? Why did you write, when you never intended to reply? Or did you want to reply and my mail wasn't what you were expecting? What exactly were you expecting when you wrote this cryptical email?

Since I sent off my reply, I keep checking my mails often, hoping to find your reply. Over the weeks I was able to lengthen the intervals and even think of something else - sometimes. I started watching your video and reading the old emails again. I hadn't done that in months.

I know, I can't really blame you for the tailspin you sent me on, nor for the obsession or the fact that I am apparently crazy about you. And believe me, I know how crazy it is, since we don't really know each other. I also know, that you weren't aware of the deadline I gave you for replying. Just know that I had to do it for myself.

So now, even if you send me another email one day - which I doubt - I won't reply. I can't keep doing this to myself, because I really love to sleep at night.

I hope I'll be strong enough to keep myself from replying. I also know that we might be at the same place in a couple of months, the place where I saw you first. And I'll pretend I have no idea what you look like. I won't look for you. I won't say hi. I won't tell you who I am.

See, there I go again with the what ifs and future scenarios. For all I know, you don't give a damn about what I will and won't do. If you wanted to know, all you had to do is reply to my reply to an email that took you more than two years to write.

Why I write this letter, you wonder? Honestly, it's more for me than for you. Obviously, since you won't ever read it. I needed to say it out loud at least once, so I can get rid of all the anxiety linked to you. I can't talk to my friends. How to explain this madness?

You have no idea how much I miss you. The real you or my idea of you, I don't know. I just know that I miss you. Even knowing it's crazy.

Yours Y