I'm going to be a fool and tell you what I shouldn't. I'm going to be a coward, too, because I'll tell you in this letter, instead of telling you like I should, face to face. I'm going to tell you that you are the only woman I ever wanted that I will never have, and that I hate you with all my heart just because you are in the world, making me miserable with my want and my pain.

I'm going to be a fool and a coward, and selfish, too. And yet I know you won't mind, not really, because deep down you want to hear this, probably as much as I need to say it, to finally rid yourself of the unspeakable burden that I make you carry.

I'm going to get it all out, then. Speak of it, say the things that shouldn't be said, because, like the oldest cliché on earth, the truth will set us free from this charade that I no longer have the strength to uphold. The truth will take off this angel mask I wear and show the real monster underneath, the monster that meeting you created. I'm going to tell you that as much as I love you, I hate you even more because I can't have you. I hate you, selfishly and with all my might, as I love you.

I'm going to tell you how I need you. I'm going to tell you how I despise this need that I can't satisfy. I'm going to tell you how I silently cry for you, and how the tears that run down my cheeks are bitter, angry drops that dry in pain.

I'm going to tell you what you already know, that I live in a small and closeted world, too small to fit you, too closeted to let you breath. But my soul, my body, my voice all scream to bring you in, even when I know it would be the same as killing your soul, your body, your voice. You're bigger than my world, I know, and yet I'm going to tell you that I wish you were imprisoned in these four walls with nowhere to go but me.

I'm going to tell you that I can't stand these selfish thoughts and that I hate myself for hating you and how powerless you make me feel. I'm going to tell you that this farce can't go on any longer. I don't want to be your friend, I don't want to be in touch, I don't want to know what your life is like, I don't care what your dreams are, I just don't want to know you're in the world anymore, because if I know that you're in the world, my world shrinks even further without you in it.

I'm finally telling you, like the fool and coward that I am. I'm going to free you from me, this is the only unselfish thing about this letter, that I'm going. I'm going now, you will never again know that I dream of you, that I imagine your kiss, that I won't pass a minute without wanting to breath you into me, to lock you up and never let you go, that I love you from afar, as surely as my heart beats at the rhythm of my thoughts of you.

I'm going to tell you that I will always cherish that you are somewhere in the universe, in a world much bigger than mine, far from me and unreachable, but nevertheless breathing the same air, warmed by the same sun, howling at the very same moon.

I'm going to tell you to run from me, from my unhealthy devotion, from my selfish feelings. I'm going to tell you that you have to forget me, forget that I'm in this world, and I'm going to ask you to hate me for my cowardice if you ever, perchance, remember me.

I'm going to ask you that you laugh at the fact that you are the only woman I ever wanted that I will never have. Laugh at me, diminish me with a smirk, so that you help me hate you as you will surely hate me for my foolishness, my cowardice, my selfishness.

You have to hate me, never again speak to me, never again write to me, never again remember that I am in this world. I'm going to... go.