Let's Break Out The...

Right. Here I come again now baby, like a dog in heat. I am unsure of what it was I ate yesterday, but I am paying the proverbial price for it today. And by proverbial price I clearly mean I am typing this in the bathroom.
I sit here and wonder how many fortunes were won and lost on horse racing before the camera and subsequent photo finishes.
My name is Stuart Ransom Miller.
I think when Ted Nugent wrote his shit for Stranglehold. He thought to himself, "Ted. This is clearly the best guitar ever. Someone else must have written it before me." But then he checked and as it stands, we have Ted to thank for the greatest opening and song long guitar ever. So thank you Ted. Go back to hunting shit now.
I have secretly loved her since I’ve known her. She knew there was only one word in the language ending in "MT" and she knew it was dreamt. I have, in private said things I will only say to her. I have watched her dance, date and kiss many different men. I have surreptitiously admired every man with confidence enough to speak to her.
She always seemed easy around me. Not easy in the sense that I could fuck her and not easy in the sense that I could talk to her. Easy in the sense that she could talk to me in manners she couldn’t with others. Easy in the sense that she always looked as if she were trying to get something out of me.
I haven't seen her in years and I will see her again this summer. I hate the fact I have placed her visage in conjunction with your intelligence. I hate how I pretend she will feel the same way I hope you would. I hate how I remember her voice and when I picture her face the picture falls apart into tiny pieces. I hate how your intelligence and her looks will never be paired. The pieces spell words resembling what you are.
She is what I wanted then. You are what I want now. And I fear that in any woman meeting those specifications is a galaxy outside of my sport and above my level that she wouldn't even look at me.
Not looking at me wouldn’t be new. I've been living with that since I was young. What bothers me is working entirely too hard to be a man that I would imagine she might want, and to fail. There is the proverbial rub.
To be honest, I've never met you. You on the other hand have met me in ways most never will. You seem to have gotten it but you have disappeared. I long to see your face and stare at the beauty God created for everyone to see. I long to see this and hate myself because of my selfish nature. I believe that God created you for only me to see. I also believe that Got created me humbly enough to never hold you to me only.
You expose the hypocrisy in my being, and I thank you for it. I love you. I love your name. I love you. I will hold you every night in my mind forever. I will make love to you every time I make love. When I die and am made the man I could have been, I hope to be good enough to be with you. Even for a brief time in eternity.