To E.F.

Dear E. F.,

This feeling is still in adolescence, and it might be birthed in my own, but I keep it close as I would my own child and it grows larger and stronger each time I see you - every smile, laugh, shared feeling and thought aggrandizes it to the point that I have to draft this out because I'm not sure I could relate its full message in person. Your heart, mind, goals, priorities...everything. I love you, I think, or whatever this feeling is called before it ripens.
I know this site is filled half-full with my own letters to other people, but this is not impulsive like all those were. This has had time to grow stronger, a taste that, cooking through with these constant flames (like those of Purgatory, perhaps - strong but harming only impurity) has come to season too slowly for my own patience.
I'm not afraid to say it; that's not why I write this. If I was ashamed of it, I wouldn't lay it out here where all eyes can see. I don't fear ridicule, because I know any applied to me would be unwarranted. Right now the only thing I surely fear is the answer I receive from that voice I've known for years, but whose worth only recently have come to appreciate fully.
That said, I ask if you don't feel the same stirrings when you think of me that you don't (as I know a caring soul as yours will) do as I have done and foster illusions in your , but I ask that if you've seen this before for me that you tell me.
I would, of course, love to see you soon.

'Love,
E.K.