This delicate dance of wishing her to know you admire her, while never, ever offending or making your presence too known. You would dance in support of all her joy and accomplishments anonymously where possible. You would take the fall for her, or defend her honor – immediately and without thought, even in knowing she will never know you were the one who did as much for her. *Especially* so in those moments. Your greatest fear is of her shutting a door – perhaps because you let on too strong, or got overly excited in your enduring passion that runs for her, but never *at* her. Because, in greatest truth, you are happy in the role of simply admiring her from afar. Although you would drop to your knees at the chance to ever be something more to her, you are almost too afraid to dream it, and are afraid anything she potentially likes of you would be shattered when you can’t even bring yourself to utter a word in her presence. And, on that subject of words, it’s so fitting and correct to never type or utter an “I think …” or some other lame attempt at cleverness or witty banter in the vicinity of any photograph or words of hers, as it would cheapen and poison it. You don’t want anything of your coarse reflection projecting on her beauty. You are happy to admire from afar. Passionate and strong is that magnetic field flowing from you, but never in a way that dreams of possessing. Happy, in that you don’t dare to dream of more, and yet feel sustained. Wildly so. You bounce! You find yourself laughing like a child at times just over the thought of her. Happy, in that she – just in her existing in this same world as you at the same time (what are the beautiful odds of this??), brings you more awakening and true alive-ness than from any person you could touch or kiss. Your greatest fear is of frightening her away. When all you wish to do is admire. From as far away as she decides or wishes. And as quietly as possible. You know nothing – certainly nothing at all – but can’t help but feel there is something in what you feel that she feels. Perhaps even just the slightest, thinnest thread of it. And any communication can stay in that sublime, oh-so-quiet place – connected upon and conveyed through that invisible, gossamer line. She’s the thing that excites you out of bed each morning, just simply to see what she is up to that day! And you can say – honestly and truly – you are content with just that alone. And so thankful for it. And you mean it. You mean it as deeply as you’ve ever meant anything.