Oh, I know that when you get this letter from between your books when you open your locker, you'll probably look around the hallway and wonder who gave it to you. You'll see me standing nearby, smiling at you, but, like always, your eyes will pass over me like I wasn't even there. You won't even notice how intently I'm looking at your face when you open the envelope and read the letter right there in front of your locker.
That's because I'm just your average Joe - average height, short, dark hair, dark brown eyes, and a little bit on the chunky side. I know you'll never pick me out in the crowd because there's almost nothing about my features that stand out and will make you take notice of me. But still, I write to you because I have two things that someday I hope you'll notice in me.
The first thing is a bit hard to pinpoint, and that's because you will have to look into my eyes before you see it: the twinkle in them. No, it's not your average, ordinary, I-love-the-world twinkle. It's more of a wistful twinkle. The kind that the poets used to get in their eyes when they write about undying love, and the kind that painters used to shine from theirs when they paint portraits of beautiful women. It's the twinkle you get when you see a beautiful sunset, or a magnificent rainbow; the one that says you wish you could freeze time and forever capture this moment as it is.
It's the same kind of twinkle I get when I look at you - the way your hair shines when the sunlight hits them just right, the way your nose crinkles when you tell a joke, the way you stare quietly into the distance, perhaps dreaming of great and romantic things in your future. I know that the twinkle in my eyes is the closest that I will get to aiming a camera at you and forever keeping that single, precious moment of you with me - never to fade, never to be forgotten.
The second thing that makes me stand out in the crowd is my smile. It's as quick as a flash of lightning and perhaps, just as luminous. It's there on my face, bringing to light every hidden desire, every unfulfilled wish when it comes to you. It's there when you cry in the form of a sad, longing smile, wishing that I could be the shoulder that you cry on. It's there when you laugh as a happy, yearning smile, wishing that I could have been the one that made you laugh. It's there when you get that soft, gentle look in your eyes as a yearning, hoping smile, wishing that someday it would be me that your eyes are looking at. All these smiles, my secret love, carrying different faces, but all with the same fervent hope: that someday, you will be mine.
Now that you're nearing the end of your letter, I'm sure that, once again, you will look up and around, trying to see who sent you the letter, trying to see me. I'm sure you will get a brief glimpse of that said wistful twinkle, that said hopeful smile. But then, somehow it'll be interrupted and that tenuous contact will be broken. And with that precious moment gone, you will forget seeing me and your eyes will move on, like they always do.
However, I will keep that twinkle in my eyes and that smile on my face, waiting for the day that you will keep your glance long enough on me and finally see this Average Joe, who might not be so average after all.
Until then, I remain your mysterious locker Romeo.