Gay crush on straight friend

Dear X,

I can't stop thinking about you. It's driving me crazy. I want to be with you so bad. Maybe you know the feeling? Probably not. More likely, you've heard this all before.

Next to you, I'm a wretched pile of nothing. I know I'll never be half the man you are. You're everything I want to be, and more. When I see you, I see clearly what a bad, miserable, pitiful person I am. And yet, it brings me nothing but joy, to know that you're here in this world, that I had the privilege of knowing you, and that you may even have called me a friend. Do I envy you? Who wouldn't? But do I resent you for it? Never for a moment.

I love you so much. I have for a long time. Foolish me, that I didn't see it sooner. Now you've gone and found love somewhere else. Don't get me wrong, I want you to be happy. If I suffer all my life, for one moment of your happiness, it'd be worth it. And I know you'll be happier with her than you'd ever be with me. I have nothing to offer you.

But I would give the world to be with you. I'd do your every bidding. I'd hold your hand as we walked down the street together. You'd run your fingers through my hair as I leaned on you, holding you tight. I'd fall asleep curled up in your arms. That, and so much more. I want you with every fiber of my being. But in my mind I know it's impossible. Not just unlikely, but impossible even in principle.

You see, that imagined picture is not who you are. That's not the man I fell in love with. Words fail me when I try to describe you. You've always been true to yourself, full of wit and courage, sharp and strong-willed, able to shape the world to your vision, be damned what anyone else thinks. At the same time, you don't just care for your own pleasure, but you're willing to endure the hardships of life, and be the rock in the storm, holding the world on your shoulders. You'd never take the easy way out, like I do. That's why I love you.

And that's why you'll make a great father some day. You deserve so much more than the fake, cheap imitation of love that I can give you. You deserve the real thing. You deserve life, but all I can give is death.

I'd like to think that I could find a real boyfriend one day, someone who could love me back, and then I could forget about you and move on. If it were only a matter of lust, maybe. You are ravishingly handsome, to be sure. Maybe some fraction of gay men could approach you in that regard. But it's not just about that. Everything about you, I love and long for. I don't think I could ever love a gay man the same way. And I don't think I'll ever be able to forget you.

You must find this pathetic to no end, that I should agonize so much over you, when you've probably never thought of me as more than a peripheral friend at best, an annoying hanger-on at worst. And you'd be right.

Well, there's no happy ending to this story. I can try and keep myself busy, distract myself with other things, tell myself that I can be happy without you. But I know I never will.

Yours always,

Y