A friend asked for my take on his work (hi, Ren!) (still in the process of writing this, though).

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Dear Benjamin,


  I would like you to know how hard it is to be a secret lover.

  You may feel that I am writing this because, due to my seemingly unsubstantial assertiveness, I am expecting this letter to move you or make you realize the bottled feelings you may have for me.

  I am telling you now: I am not. You see, that is far from my goal here. More than anything at this moment, I just want you to know everything.

     More than anything at this moment, I just want my fondness of you to actually reach you.

So, here I am, in my desk, wondering how you are -- could you be in your desk, too?
could you possibly be watching the same set of stars from your window? --
while listening to the radio play a particular love song that goes: