“The Last Message I Never Sent”

I still have it—your last message.

Unsent.

Unfinished.

Unspoken.

It’s been over a year since we ended things, but that message still sits there in my drafts, frozen in time. I open it sometimes, just to remind myself how close I came to saying it all… and how far I was from actually doing it.

You were my favorite what-if.

My almost.

My not-quite-but-still-felt-like-forever.

We didn’t have the kind of breakup that ends in screaming or shattered glass. No doors slammed. No dramatic goodbyes. Just a quiet drifting apart. Like two boats that once sailed side by side, suddenly finding themselves in different oceans.

Maybe that’s what hurt the most—there was no “ending.”

No closure.

Just space… and silence.

I remember the way your eyes looked the last time we met. Tired. Not angry, just… done. You smiled, the kind of smile people give when they’re pretending they’re okay. I mirrored it, too afraid to ask the question that hung between us:

“Is this it?”

And it was.

That night, I wrote you a message.

I started typing it as soon as I got home.

“I miss you already.

I don’t know how to exist without your goodnight texts, your random songs, your way of making the world seem less heavy.

I still love you. I think I always will.”

But I never hit send.

Why?

Maybe because I knew it wouldn’t change anything.

Maybe because I was scared of hearing nothing back.

Or worse… hearing you say you didn’t feel the same.

So I kept it.

I saved it like a scar I didn’t want to heal.

People say time heals everything.

But some wounds just learn how to hide better.

You move on. You smile. You even laugh. But deep down, there’s still that place where their name lives.

Yours still echoes in mine.

I see you sometimes.

In songs.

In strangers.

In places we said we’d go, but never did.

It’s strange how someone can become a memory… and yet still feel so alive in you.

I don’t hate you. I never did.

In fact, I’m grateful.

You taught me that love isn’t always loud. Sometimes, it’s quiet and painful and real even when it ends. You showed me how deeply I could feel, and how strong I could become after being broken.

But I do wonder…

Do you still think of me when you hear our song?

Do you ever reach for your phone when you’re alone at night, only to stop yourself?

Do you remember the way we used to talk about forever like it was something we owned?

Or was I the only one holding on?

I’ll probably never know.

And maybe that’s okay.

Because now, that unsent message?

It doesn’t feel like something I need to send anymore.

It feels like a piece of who I was.

A version of me that loved deeply, even when it hurt.

And that’s enough.

Some stories don’t get a second chapter.

Some love doesn’t circle back.

And some goodbyes are meant to be silent.

But I loved you.

God, I really did.

And maybe that’s all I ever needed to say.