My dearest Aarindarius,
You know me. And I, obviously, know you. But though you have seen my face and have spoken with me, you know nothing of my feelings for you.
I adore you. You are kind and gentle, always willing to lend a helping hand. You are wise and understanding. You are the rock I cling to in the storms of despair. When I want to cry, you're there. When I need to talk, you listen. I love you.
I have wished, so many times, that you loved me back. So many days I've spent thinking of ways to confess my love to you. But I've never worked up the courage to, for fear you would reject me.
And so I find myself writing this letter. I wish I could be as bold as you and simply walk up to you and say these words. But I know I could never bring myself to do it. Instead I put my pen to paper and write anonymously.
I wish I could speak to you candidly; alas, the closest to that which I can come without revealing my identity- something I am not prepared to do just yet- is to write to you. If you should care to write to me, something I would enjoy immensely, you may entrust your letters to Inkyrius, the baker's apprentice. I have instructed him to then bring such letters to me. He is trustworthy in such matters, I assure you.
I hope that I may soon converse with you, even through pen and paper.
Your Secret Admirer