r/Unsent_Unread_Unheard

You know, it’s really strange.

I never believed in gods or magic.

I value math, evidence, the scientific method, that sort of thing.

Yet, ever so faintly, in a hidden corner of my mind, there’s that itch.

I used to dislike the concept of ‘intuition’. I had already moved beyond that dislike when we met—indeed, I had changed my perspective on it a couple of years earlier.

I thought I understood more of it then.

But then, what is that itch?

It is not what I understood. It seems to be more than that.

Something in me knows you and believes in you more than I have ever believed in anything.

It feels like sensing something that has always been true.

I believe in you.

That is probably why I can’t stop hoping.

It isn’t hope.

It’s knowing.

I'm breaking again, I'm drowning and hopeless. I can't stop myself from thinking about things over and over and that they really meant nothing? I just don't understand. There were promises, there were memories, there were goals, there was support, there was love, there was intimacy, there was communication, there was excitement, there was fun, there was loyalty, there was endearment, there was encouragement. But apparently there couldn't be compromise and challenges. All the things there was were only half truths and then there were the lies that came out of the dark endless, murderous, like a waterfall with overflowing waters. I don't understand and I have to convince myself I don't need to understand but it makes me feel crazy. Did I read the room that wrong, am I an idiot, vain, the problem, socially inept, idk. I'm just breaking again. Actually not again, I'm just still broken and any healing seems little help. I guess I have to learn to live broken. 

My social circle has made me realize how truly alone I am. I’ve realized in my solace that I can distract myself from the sorrows around me and the temptations that follow if I have something to look forward to. In an attempt to be proactive I’ve tried making plans each day this week with a different person, it turned out to be quite a social experiment as I tried making plans to do things I don’t even like hoping that would entice my clique to show up for me. 0/6, not a single person followed through. 1 showed up for a game night but ended up leaving before we could even begin as he got an important phone call.

It’s hard not to feel as though I’m spiraling as I’m trying to do everything right. I’m trying so desperately to be the best version of myself but I’m still struggling to be successful with finding happiness. I’m exhausted….the level of effort I’ve been putting into life is ridiculous. I try so fucking hard. I’ve even been trying to do this sober as I’ve come to the realization that I’m a control freak, I abuse substances because if I make myself fail I still feel like I’m in control.

I’m trying to manifest something positive here but it’s a struggle, I’m fighting everyday up in this bitch. I had how my mind is at times, there’s a downfall to having such a creative mind. One minute I’m doing fine and the next I can’t function. There’s not one part of my life right now that is consistent other than pain.

To be in your frame of mind. You are not the first person to ever convince yourself of a false reality.

But it has proven to be a detrimental issue. I'm sorry youtake offense to that.

You are not an addict with their head on straight or in a proper mind set.

You have not been an addict with compete Control of yourself. I'm sorry, but it's just not true.

When we met, you ended up in a psychosis.

When you relapsed, psychosis came again.

I cant ever convince you this is true. You won't ever take it Into consideration. That really fucking hurts. I always encouraged you to be the best you can be. Even if it meant to be without .me.

Keep that in mind as you replay visions in your head of the things you claim I did. Nothing added up cuz it' wasn't then nor is it now, a version of me that I'll ever fit into. And you know this.

I know you have memories you claim you know were real. You saw, you heard, you felt, you smelled so many things and your brain has no doubt it was all taking place.

That's psychosis.

The problem, it was your mind making shit up.

You can't recall when you kicked me out, forced me on the streets, told my kids you didn't know why I just left. How you screamed daily when I lived there for me to get the fck out as you couldn't stand me.

You're memory says I just left for no reason. I left you at your lowest and didn't care. I cant argue with you anymore. It's draining. There is nothing I can do or say to get you to hear me out.

The only things you want to hear is that everything you have "memories" of and everything you "just know" are actually true. You want to be told I set out to fk ur world over and had no regard for you at all,ever.

I'm sorry, I can't admit to things that never happened. I can't be remorseful for what I never even Contimplated.

You'll never know exactly what you did to me andwherw it left me. Your mind can't go there I guess.

You pushed and shoved until I went face first over the edge.then you blamed me for not being able to withstand it all. You switched roles and claimed to be the victim,you've repeated me verbatim countless times. You give me advice that only applies to you. It's frustrating to say the least.

Maybe I'm so very wrong. Maybe it wasn't a psychosis. Maybe you knew all along what nasty games you were playing and rhe malice and evil intent was purposed. Either way, it was you all along.

​

Someone told me today that I didn’t seem like myself anymore, that I no longer did the things they always considered part of what made me who I am/was. That I seemed to be missing the love of life that I used to make them want to have. I didn’t have the heart to tell them it’s because depression wins daily and that the part of me that’s missing died when I lost you. How do I get me back. I’m not even sure I can, or if I want to. It feels like my belief in myself, in others, in the world around me, that my hope is gone. I didn’t have the heart to say that I can’t seem to recover from the traumas. I didn’t have the heart to say that I don’t seem like myself anymore because I’m not and I never will be again. I din’t have to the heart to say I don’t seem like me anymore because I don’t love life anymore and I can’t seem to find reasons to love it again. I just don’t believe in them or me or people. I go through the motions cause I don’t know what else to don’t believe they matter anymore. Nothing matters you showed me that, not what I believe, not what others want me to believe, and if nothing matters what’s the point of any of it. Someone told me I didn’t seem like myself anymore and I didn’t have the heart to say it’s because life has made me into no one.

It's been years since we shared space, since I've felt your energy. I wonder if the kids even remember my name, little lives go so fast. It breaks my heart. It's been years I'm a memory from another life but you still hold power over me. That is an ache I can not stop. A constant pull on my soul where there is now an empty space. I don't understand how I can feel that way, how you told me that you felt that way too, how we lived that way only to lose it. It's been years since I've seen your eyes, and talked to your soul. I still can't believe it wasn't whole. It's been years and I still wake up and for a moment forget now I live a life without you…or really more like… just exist.

There was once a girl who lived beside the sea.

She had never been afraid of storms.

What frightened her was the sea on a cloudless day.

Because when the water was still, she could not tell what it wanted.

She watched the horizon every morning.

Some days, the tide came toward her.

Some days, it withdrew.

And some days, it seemed to do neither at all.

Then she met someone who lived beneath the moon.

From the first night, she felt herself being pulled toward him.

Not like a hand pulling another hand.

Something older than that.

Something inevitable.

Like water answering the moon.

She did not know whether he felt it too.

That was the trouble.

He would look at her,

and she would think:

Surely.

Then he would look away,

and she would think:

Perhaps not.

A smile became evidence.

A silence became evidence.

A touch became proof.

A distance became proof of the opposite.

She began collecting tiny moments,

trying to build certainty from them.

But certainty would not come.

Then, one night, he stood beneath the moon and began to change.

He became brighter.

Larger.

More alive.

And something inside her broke open.

She could not remain a quiet sea.

She became weather.

“You swell,” she whispered,

“and I monsoon.”

He looked at her as though he understood.

For one perfect moment,

she thought that was certainty.

But the moment passed.

And afterward, the questions returned.

When the skies began falling,

she stayed.

When everything around them seemed to collapse,

she loved him still.

That, at least, she knew.

What she didn't know

was whether he loved her.

So she waited for him to tell her.

He never did.

Years later, when the night was finally through,

the valley was strangely beautiful.

Everything was in bloom.

The places where the storm had broken the earth

were now filled with flowers.

The girl stood among them,

older now,

and understood something she had been too frightened to understand before.

She had spent years believing that certainty meant knowing

what another person felt.

It didn't.

Certainty could mean knowing

what you felt.

She had loved him.

That was certain.

She had been pulled toward him.

Certain.

She had become a monsoon whenever he swelled.

Certain.

Whether he had loved her back

would remain a question.

But the question no longer had the power

to make her doubt the answer she already possessed.

She looked toward the moon.

“I still shine when you do,” she said.

And for the first time,

she did not wait to see whether the moon answered.

She walked on.

Not because she had stopped loving him.

Not because she had finally learned that he never loved her.

But because uncertainty had finally become something else:

not the absence of truth,

but the space where truth had not yet been given.

And she discovered she could live there.

The sea could remain a sea

without knowing what the moon thought.

The heart could remain a heart

without being chosen.

And love could be real

even when its ending was not certain.

That was the certainty she had been searching for all along.

​

I want to fall down

At the feet of true love

To be picked up and held

By the strong heart above

I want my name spoken

With such reverence

It makes goosebumps appear

It makes the air condense

I want eyes to search for me

Through every door

Across every room

Upon every shore

I want to be fathomed

To be told "Darling, I knew."

To be seen completely

and all the way through

I want to be wanted

With longing so deep

With such profound desire

Orpheus would weep

I want to be cherished

Don't ever let go

As time slips and winds

Through the cosmos aglow

12 years ago yesterday I woke up and you didn’t. I think a part of me was buried with you. I felt you in the storm last night. I know you wouldn’t be the most proud of me for the life I’ve lived since you’ve been gone. I’m trying to be the best version of myself but it is really fucking hard. Yesterday was hard but I had someone special help get me through it even though she’s going through a storm herself. Please watch over us my friend, I’ll try my hardest to make you proud.

I’m happy for you, my friend. Truly. I hope you’ve found your way back to yourself, or at least found a road that feels worth following. I know it won’t always be easy. Healing rarely is. Some days, surviving is still the only victory we can manage.

I’ve met many people here, but I remember every soul who dared to place their story in my hands. You are one of them now, one of those who moved on. I can only hope you are safe, that life has become gentler, and that you’ve found a place where you no longer have to hide your wounds to be loved.

I won’t forget you.

If I helped you, even in some small way, then what passed between us mattered. Perhaps we recognized something in each other: two people shaped by pain, each understanding that sometimes the safest hands are those that have trembled too. You needed someone who could care for your broken places without ever mistaking you for broken. Someone who knew that tenderness is not pity, and protection is not possession.

Life asked too much of some of us. I know what it means to endure long after endurance should have stopped being necessary. I know the exhaustion of carrying wounds no one else can see, and the strange silence that comes when the danger is gone, but its ghosts remain.

Eventually, I stopped trying to banish mine. I sat beside them. Learned their names. Listened until they had nothing left to scream.

Now, when they rise, I dance with them.

I hope one day you’ll dance with yours too, not because they no longer hurt, but because they no longer lead. And if the darkness ever whispers that no one could understand you, remember this:

For a little while, I did.

You were seen. You were held in someone’s thoughts. And wherever you go from here, you are not alone.

I don’t care anymore.

I gave you so much of my time. I rearranged parts of my life for you. I lost hours of sleep just to have more hours with you. I overlooked things I normally wouldn’t have, accepted things I had every right to question, and convinced myself they were worth getting past because of how close I felt to you. Because when it was good between us, it felt good enough to make everything else seem smaller.

But now?

Now you crossed a line I can’t pretend I didn’t see.

And something in me changed after that.

Now I don’t feel the same pull to reach for you. I won’t contact you the way I always have. I won’t keep making myself available just because that’s what you’ve gotten used to. You’ll notice me less. My texts will become fewer, the effort will disappear from them, and eventually you’ll realize that the person who once made so much room for you stopped trying to be there at all.

I cared about you enough to bend myself around what we had.

Now I care about myself enough to stop.

Oh, but how delicate it once was! The Dish.... Oh so fragile.... And that darn spoon, tho! What was it doing sticking up out of the ground anyways?? Oh Father, Father, where wert thouest??? Where wert thou when thee was needed thy mostess? Shant you just 'allow' the dish to be broken? Over. And over. And over. And over again! Where wert thou? So, what shall be the end of the story? Shall the dish run away with the spoon??? Only tiiiiiiiiime will teeeeeell

when i close my eyes, i see you.
i touch myself, i feel you.
i whisper to myself, i hear you.

i watch you rush to me,
i feel you press into me,
you’re moaning in my ear.

my hands are your hands,
they know where to go.
they know where you would go.

they imitate your hunger for my body,
hungry to be touched like that,
by you.

scenes replay in my head,
words i’ve held onto and listened to many.. many times.

eyes closed tight with one hand around my neck,
i beg to no one.

legs wrapped around the other,
i pretend it feels like you.
it doesn’t.

breath quickens,
one final notice.
i’m coming and you’re not here.

To my other pea,

By now you know when things need said unless I'm angry, or protecting someone, I lose my voice. I wish I didn't. I wish I was one of those who could say what they want when they want instead of choking on their voice box every time like a doll with the button press in the wrong place.

But I'm not. I'm trying, and I hope you can see I'm trying. And I know you're trying too. I can see that in how you talk. We're still a little out of sync at it but compared to silence and shouting it's miles on.

I just want you to know I see you. I see the weight on your shoulders and the light gone from your face. I know you won't talk until you're ready and that's okay. But don't hide it. Please talk to me. Because I need someone to talk to too. I miss you.

And despite everything remember I love you. I might put a little too much salt in your pasta or something every now and then or make sure your coffee isn't milky but we'll sort things in our own way.

Yours always.

-Y

I want to know what stokes the fire behind those eyes. The silent thoughts that flicker behind the glass.

I want to learn your darkness and explore the places where you hide. Let us play where we can't be found.

I want to understand your silence and your carefully chosen words. The hidden meaning behind them that no one else seems to capture.

I want to hold your hand when life gets too much. When the weight of the world bears down on you and everyone walks away.

I want to be a safe place where you can just be yourself. The good, the bad, and the irritating.

I want to appreciate you like they never did. Thank you for sharing parts of you that others overlook.

I want to love you in ways no one ever has. Your heart, in my hands, and your mind in my heart.

You are an enigma, and I am intrigued. That fire in your eyes mesmerised me.

and I still do.

If you wanted to become the villain of my story, I have to disappoint you. You can't be, because I love you, and that is not going away.

I wish I was strong. I'm not strong, I'm a pathetic and miserable person and I don't understand why you couldn't be honest with me.

I spend so much time pondering on all the possibilities, all the possible reasons why you said what you said and still ghosted me, after everything.

It shouldn't matter. It all amounts to the same outcome: you don't care enough to even give an update.

It's cruel. You're cruel. Would it be that hard to say "I changed my mind, I don't want to talk to you at all"?

And if you still meant to, would it have been so hard to give a follow up, telling me that, maybe giving at least ANY explanation?

You knew, you KNOW about my feelings, and about how deep they run too. You do not need to have read my unsent words to know, because I've more than made that clear in the offline world.

But you don't have the decency to not leave me in the dark.

I'll probably never even get a good bye.

You're either choosing that or have not even given it a thought.

I don't even know which option I think is worse.

​

I can't get over my sad and angry feelings. I can't get over being left for dead when … when well our lives were one in the same. I can't get over the loss. There is so much, not just you and us, there's so much.

I can't get over you, the choices, the emotions, the lies, not just the lies that you didn't want me to know but the ones you consciously took part in and encouraged me to believe. I can't. I've tried. I'm trying. I just can't, it's always gonna be there. It'll get quieter, things will replace it because life moves on but, it'll always keep a part of me. It'll always kill me. You killed me, knowingly. And I can't get over that idk how.

I hate to feel it. I hate to type it out but I hate you. I hate what you did to me. I hate myself. I hate how you made me feel the greatest ways and it was all a ruse that became feelings in the worst ways.

I don't know how to turn that hate back into love. You took away my wonder, my magic, me. And I let you, that's my fault and something I'll never do again. Boundaries are important even with people you want to give everything to. That's a lesson learned. I hate that I hate. And I let you do that to me too.

You're not even a part of my life anymore but you have a hold over every day. I hate that you still matter and I hate that you shouldn't anymore. I hate that I can't let go and I need to. I hate that I ever met you. I hate that I want to forget you. I hate that I felt love for you and loved by you to the point I never could've/would've lived without you and now I do. But I guess it's not really living anymore is it. I hate that I love you the way I do/did and you matched what I gave to you and that it wasn't really you or how you felt or what you believe.

I can't get over my hate. When I try I hurt, I feel guilty, I breakdown, I don't believe, I lose any want to try. I lost my love, I want my hate to be love again, I want my love back.

I remain unseen. Loved ones, those who care about me, it doesn't matter.
I don't know what I am. I don't know what's inside. Perhaps I've been pretending so long that I almost believed I'm not hollow and empty on the inside.

Pretending I'm finally happy, but it's not true. Cut me open, there is nothing inside. It's so convoluted and messed up, torn apart and eating itself.

If everyone has a vessel that stores energy, my vessel is corroded. Leaking. Unstable.
I'm wise beyond my years, I've often been told. I'm wise, I listen, I understand.

I try not to anymore... But it hurts wanting to love and care and give my all for others, knowing it will never ever be reciprocated. I want to be thoughtful, but I hold back now.

I've been burnt out too much, corroded, from the thankless effort that goes unnoticed.

"You don't do kind things for a reward"

I know.

I swear I know. But my kindness goes completely unnoticed and taken for granted. It is so selfish being mentally ill...

And yet I always want to save someone when I should save myself first.

I'm always running away. The euphoria I get from being a good listener, a wise mentor, a good friend... Yet it doesn't matter because this euphoria is made of plastic. Fake, superficial.

What's the point in showing love when the inside is empty, and when the other is too filled with anguish to reciprocate?

"Thank you..."

But it's never enough. I'm still hollow. I can't love with all my heart to protect myself, I should restrain myself and not give my all out of sympathy... But I wish I can abandon it all and just be happy qnd content with putting in a thankless effort.

I wish I didn't need praise and affection from those who can't afford to give it to me.

I wish you cared about me. I wish you care about me more than your pain. I wish I was more important to you. I wish I was akin to a God to you like you were to me. I wish you worshipped me like I worshipped you. I wish you cared for what I thought like I cared for what you thought. I wish you didn't pursue me and made me fall in love with you.

Why did you have to drag me into loving you, adoring you, only to drag me down with you.

Why did you come into my life if you eventually don't wish to stay? If you don't wish to try and see me?

This dull pain is suddenly overwhelming.
I am going to say goodbye to you. I am so over it.

It hurts to watch someone you love ruin their life for a fantasy,
when you are standing right there, willing to give them something real.

Is it the thrill of the chase, the promise of something just out of reach, the fantasy of being wanted, or the need to be someone’s savior?

Maybe real love feels too quiet
when chaos has become familiar. Maybe peace feels empty when the heart has learned to chase storms.

But my love was pure.
It wasn’t a game.
It wasn’t a chase.
I didn’t need to be rescued,
and I never needed you to save me.

I simply wanted to love you, to stand beside you, to share the ordinary moments, the laughter, the adventures, the hard days and the beautiful ones.

I was right there and somehow, you kept looking for something you believed would make you whole, while overlooking the love that was already holding out its hand.

I can’t compete with a fantasy.
I can’t convince someone to choose what is real.

All I can do now is let go with a heart that still loves you, and hope someday you understand the difference between being wanted
and being truly loved.

Goodbye my love.