Letters I Never Sent to You

🕰️ 1. The Unwritten Beginnings

There are stories that never make it to paper — not because they lack meaning, but because meaning itself becomes too heavy to carry.

Yours was one of those stories.

I remember sitting by my window on quiet evenings, a pen trembling between my fingers. The ink would touch the page, then stop — as if even the pen knew that once I began, there would be no end.

Each night, I told myself, “Tomorrow, I’ll write.”

Each tomorrow passed like a sigh — invisible, unclaimed, and gone.

💌 2. The First Letter — “I Miss You”

If I had written that first letter, it would’ve been simple:

“I miss you.”

“I still check my phone expecting your name.”

“I replay our last goodbye like a broken record that won’t stop.”

But I didn’t send it, because missing someone who’s already left feels like knocking on a locked door, hoping the wind will answer.

Instead, I tucked the unsent letter into an old book — the one you once said smelled like rain. It’s strange how even paper can remember people.

🌧️ 3. The Second Letter — “I Forgive You”

This one took longer to write — months, maybe years.

Forgiveness isn’t soft; it’s a storm that clears what the heart keeps hiding.

I wanted to tell you:

That I understood why you left.

That I, too, have walked away from people who loved me.

That sometimes love isn’t enough, and that’s okay.

But I never sent it. Not because I didn’t forgive you — but because I wanted you to live peacefully, not wondering whether I still hurt.

Some silences are kinder than words.

🌸 4. The Third Letter — “I Remember”

This one would’ve been filled with small things:

The way your laughter cracked through silence.

The song you hummed when you thought no one was listening.

How your coffee cup always had lipstick stains even when you said you didn’t wear any.

I wanted to tell you how memory doesn’t fade — it just changes shape.

It becomes scent, sound, a dream at 2 a.m.

It becomes the shadow of someone walking behind you in your thoughts.

But I didn’t send it because memories belong to both of us, and sending them would mean taking them away from you.

🕊️ 5. The Last Letter — “Goodbye”

The last one was never written.

Not because I couldn’t, but because I didn’t need to.

Goodbye isn’t a word — it’s a feeling that settles into you like dusk. It doesn’t end anything; it simply changes the light.

Maybe you’ll never read these letters.

Maybe you’ve moved on.

But somewhere, between the ink stains and the paper folds, I found something I never expected — peace.

And that, I think, is the real reason I never sent them.

💭 6. What I Learned From the Unsent

When you keep love unsent, it becomes something else:

A mirror that shows who you were.

A lesson in silence.

A soft kind of healing.

I used to think closure came from answers.

Now I know it comes from accepting that some letters are meant to stay unread.

Because sometimes, the heart understands what the hand cannot write.

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