Hi My Dearest,

         I can't believe that I'm writing this on a whim. I don't know what made me do this: maybe the scorching heat outside; the gentle hum of the fan; or the fact that I am alone on a weekday (not that I am not used to not being alone). I'm quite nervous doing this and I don't know why. I actually don't know how to start this letter (not that you'll be able to read this). The thought that I'll be writing this with you in mind made me giddy and nervous. When did I become like this? 

      Ahh, right, I remember the reason of me doing this. I actually wanted to tell you about my secret attraction to you, but, I can't do it. There are so many reasons, some you'll understand, and some you'll not. Let's just keep it that way, my dearest. 

     Now, I wanted to reminisce a bit. Do you remember the first time we met? I have poor memory so I just remember a bit. I was just reading on the library when I felt that someone sat across me. I don't mind as long as I can still read in peace. Unfortunately, you don't want me to have my peace and jist decided to ask me various questions which annoyed the hell out of me. But I still answered you nonetheless. I wanted to storm outside but a question intrigued me. 'Why do you hate people?' You asked me. It's not wrong, but in fact it's right. I hate people but how did you know? You told me that you just felt it, I don't believe you but I didn't push it. I don't want changed that time but I felt like I