For E., even though I might regret it.

How much of it is in my head?

If you said it was all delusion; I would believe you. If you said it was all true; I would believe you just the same. The signs are there, aren’t they? Or am I projecting? I don’t do this to everyone. I’ve had people care about me before, ask me questions, seem genuinely interested in me. I don’t think I have felt like this about anyone in my life.

If it was transference, why won’t it go away? Is it just infatuation? In every other way, we click. I’ve never met a stranger with as many similarities as we seem to have. What does that mean? Nothing? For the past year I have had thoughts that I feel nothing but shame about. It feels wrong, disrespectful to you for me to think and feel these things.

Even if my thoughts are true and I am not delusional, so what? Who am I? Who am I to wish we break the rules? Who am I to ask if you love me the way I love you?

I have a feeling though.

The reduced bills; the complimenting of my appearance, the way that you laugh, the way you move things around for me and seemingly me only. Granted, I have never seen you with other people in any capacity. Are you like this with all of your patients? The way you laugh, the things you’ve said to me, the way that you smile and look at me. They suggest otherwise, I think. Am I really noticing it? Or are you just that good at your job? I believe we both know there is no real outcome for us other than the one we currently have. I think maybe somewhere we’ve made up our minds, that if this is the only version of each other we can get, we’re going to hold onto it as long as we can. I don’t think I’ll ever say these things to you, not without fear of dying on the spot. Maybe, maybe one day. If I know it’s the last time I’m going to see you, I might tell you. I might send you this, who knows. I might admit it there, awaiting some sort of admittance from you. If there was nothing, well, I’d check myself in with someone else as soon as possible to figure out what went wrong with me. I just wish you knew. I just wish you knew how I felt about you.

It must be delusion because there’s no way the things I feel are real.

I feel betrayed by the universe, sort of. I feel like we have known each other and spent every life somehow finding each other in some capacity. It’s just that this one, we can’t be together. And that kills me, it’s like a cosmic joke. Every single thing I know about you is something that I love. I love the way you look when you laugh, the joy on your face, the way you get smile lines and fall backwards in your chair. You have such beautiful hair, your appearance is perfection every single time. I know these things don’t matter as much as the person you are on the inside; sweet, caring, insanely intelligent, hardworking, honest, crafty, you are a beautiful combination of so may beautiful things. Everything that I equate with beauty, you have that quality. I think this is the first time I’ve ever admitted this to myself. I hope the day I can admit it to you, that you tell me you’ve felt it too. If only we had some sort of word or phrase to let the other know that we know. If the universe wants to work with me and allow you to see this. Please find some way to let me know. Leave an orange on your desk or something. I’ll never even bring it up. Just silently note it like I do with everything else, and wish that my possible delusions were real.