The Things I Never Said — But Wish I Had

I used to think silence was easier.

That it protected people.

That it made things cleaner.

That maybe, if I didn’t say it out loud, it wouldn’t hurt so much.

But now, I understand something different:

The things we don’t say… don’t disappear.

They stay.

They sit in the corners of our minds, quietly collecting dust.

They turn into aches we can’t explain.

They live in our dreams, our regrets, our “what ifs.”

And so today, I want to speak the words I never said —

Not because they’ll change the past,

But because maybe they’ll change the way I carry it.

To the one I loved in silence:

I wish I had told you how deeply you mattered.

That your laugh lit something up inside me.

That every time you spoke, I listened with my whole heart.

That I noticed the way you pulled your sleeves over your hands when you were nervous, or how you looked away when someone got too close to the truth.

You were art, and I was too afraid to say it.

I told myself it wasn’t the right time. That we were just friends. That it would ruin things if I spoke.

But what I really meant was: I was scared you wouldn’t feel the same.

And now you’re just a memory with a heartbeat I never reached.

To the person I lost too soon:

I never said goodbye.

I thought I had more time.

That there would be another morning. Another chance.

But life doesn’t wait for our timing.

It doesn’t ask if we’re ready.

I wish I had hugged you tighter.

I wish I had said, “I forgive you,” or “thank you,” or simply, “I love you” — just one more time.

Now all I can do is whisper those words into the night and hope, somehow, they still find you.

To my younger self:

I’m sorry for being so hard on you.

You were just trying to survive.

Trying to fit in.

Trying to keep everyone happy while slowly forgetting how to make yourself smile.

You were never too much.

You were never a burden.

You didn’t have to be perfect to be loved.

I wish I had told you that sooner.

I wish I had said, “You’re enough,” instead of always pushing you to do more, be more, prove more.

I see you now.

And I’m proud of you — not because you held it all together, but because you didn’t give up when everything inside you said to.

To the friend I grew distant from:

I never told you how much you meant to me.

We drifted — slowly at first, then all at once.

Texts got shorter. Calls less frequent. Life pulled us in different directions.

I wish I had told you I missed you.

That I still thought of you when I heard our favorite song, or passed that coffee shop where we laughed until we cried.

I don’t blame you. I don’t blame me.

But I do wish I had said, “Let’s not let this go,” before we let it go.

To the version of me I became to survive:

Thank you.

You were quiet when you needed to be.

Strong when no one else was.

You carried the pain without asking for help.

You smiled when you were breaking.

You did what you had to do to protect us.

But now… you can rest.

I never said it before, but I’m grateful for your strength.

And it’s okay to let some of that armor go now.

We don’t have to live in survival mode anymore.

Why We Don’t Say the Things That Matter

I’ve asked myself this question a lot.

Why do we hold back?

Sometimes it’s fear — of rejection, of change, of being misunderstood.

Sometimes it’s pride.

Sometimes it’s not knowing how.

And sometimes… it’s because we think we’ll have more time.

But here’s the truth no one tells you early enough:

Time doesn’t wait for us to find the right words.

The moment passes.

The person walks away.

The chapter ends.

And the silence remains.

A Quiet Kind of Forgiveness

Writing this doesn’t undo the silence I carried for years.

It doesn’t rewind time or bring back lost voices.

But it does offer something softer:

Forgiveness.

To the people I never spoke to,

To the younger version of me,

To the memories still waiting for closure…

I see you now.

I hear you now.

And I’m sorry.

Final Thoughts — Say It While You Can

If you’re reading this and thinking of someone — call them.

Text them.

Write the letter.

Say the words.

Tell them they mattered.

That they helped you.

That you miss them.

That you forgive them.

That you love them.

Don’t wait for the perfect moment — it doesn’t exist.

Say it now. Say it messy. Say it scared.

Just… say it.

Because silence is safe, yes.

But it’s also where the things we never say go to die.

And you deserve more than that.

We all do.