Sometimes you have to stay silent

 

Stay silent

 

Things people regret

 

The Things I Never Said

Prose based on lyrics from the Left Unsaid - Writing Soundtrack Playlist

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The Things I Never Said

There are nights when silence feels heavier than any argument ever did. Tonight is one of them.

I sit on the edge of the bed with my elbows on my knees and breathe in the quiet as if it might finally tell me the truth. It never does. It only echoes back the things I did not say, the things I tried to say, the things I said too late, the things I said wrong, and the things I said instead.

I used to think love was about holding on. Now I am wondering if it is about learning when to speak before the moment slips away.

You once told me you loved as fiercely as you did because someone taught you to. I did not understand it then. I thought love was instinct rather than inheritance. Now I see how much of you was shaped by the people who came before me, the ones who taught you to brace for impact, to whisper instead of shout, to apologize before you even knew what you had done wrong.

And I see how much of me was shaped by silence.

I spent years biting my tongue because I feared that one wrong word would unravel everything. I feared that if I said what I really felt, you would hear it as an accusation instead of a confession. I feared that honesty would cost me the one thing I wanted to hold on to. So I swallowed the truth until it sat like a stone in my chest.

You asked me once why I never said what I meant the first time. I did not know how to tell you that my words always felt too sharp or too clumsy or too likely to break something fragile between us. So I softened them and trimmed them and hid them. In doing so, I hid myself.

You stayed longer than you should have. I know that now. You stayed even after you figured out the parts of me I tried to keep tucked away. You stayed when my fear made me quiet and when my quiet made you doubt and when my doubt made you feel alone. You stayed until staying hurt more than leaving.

I did not understand that either.

There were moments that felt small and ordinary when I could feel your heartbeat through your shirt and the world felt simple. Lying beside you made everything else fade. In those moments I wanted to say the words that hovered on the back of my tongue. Do not go. Stay. I am trying. I am scared. I love you. I do not know how to love you well, but I am trying to learn.

The words never came out right. They tripped over themselves and tangled in fear and dissolved before they reached the air. I told myself you already knew. I told myself you did not need to hear it. I told myself I would say it tomorrow.

Tomorrow came and went.

Now I replay everything in my mind. I replay the looks on your face that I did not understand at the time. I replay the questions you asked that I answered too carefully. I replay the moments when you needed me to speak, and I stayed quiet. I did not realize how much you were listening to the things I was not saying.

I did not realize how much silence can wound.

There were nights when you reached for me, and I froze. It was never because I did not want you. It was because I did not know how to let myself be seen. You saw past my excuses anyway. You always did. You saw the lies I told myself, the ones I wrapped in logic and caution. You saw the fear I tried to hide. You saw the cracks I pretended were not there.

And still, you stayed.

Until you could not.

Now I am left with the pieces. These scattered parts of who I was with you are the parts I am trying to gather and the parts I am afraid to look at too closely. I am learning to breathe again, slowly and unevenly. I am learning to listen to the quiet without letting it swallow me. I am learning that regret is its own kind of teacher.

I wonder if I cross your mind. I wonder if you replay the same moments I do. I wonder if you ever think about the words you did not say or if you only think about the ones I did not.

I miss the little things. I miss the way you tilted your head when you were trying not to laugh. I miss the circles you traced on my arm when you were thinking. I miss the way you said my name like it meant something. I did not realize how much those things mattered until they were gone.

Maybe this chapter of my life is about learning to speak before the moment passes. Maybe it is about learning to love without hiding. Maybe it is about letting the truth be messy and imperfect and real.

Maybe it is about learning that silence is not safety. Silence is a slow unraveling.

I do not know if I will ever get the chance to say these things to you. I do not know if you would want to hear them. I do not know if it would matter.

But I know this.

If tomorrow never comes, I do not want to leave anything unsaid again.

Not with you.
Not with anyone.
Not with myself.

So tonight, in the quiet, I practice the words I never said.

I am sorry.
I was afraid.
I loved you more than I knew how to show.
I am learning.
I am trying.
I am still here, even if you cannot hear my voice.

And for now, that is enough.

We say...

We say we’re fine.

We say it doesn’t matter.

We say nothing at all.

Left Unsaid is a novel about the space between heartbreak and healing - where silence speaks louder than words, and the things we don’t say shape the relationships we carry forward.

What if the truth was never spoken?
What if it still could be?

She thought silence was safer.
He thought honesty would push her away.

Between them: a thousand words never spoken.

Love letter to self

 

Someone that speaks your language

 

Matthew 12:36

 Matthew 12:36

36 But I tell you that everyone will have to give account on the day of judgment for every empty word they have spoken.

Ecclesiastes 3:7

 Ecclesiastes 3:7 

7 a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak,

The Space Between

There was a settled feeling that lingered in the weeks after the relationship ended. It was not the peace but the echoes, words replayed, moments dissected, and questions that arrived uninvited in the middle of the night.

He walked through that, retracing the steps of what had been. The reasons for failure were many, though none were simple. Arguments had grown sharper with time, and softer truths had remained hidden beneath layers of hesitation. The things he said too quickly weighed on him, as did the things he swallowed too often, and the words he wished he had spoken when there was still time.

Some truths had been left unsaid, born of fear and vulnerability, of the ache of feeling unseen, of resentment that gathered like dust in corners no one bothered to sweep. Other words had been spoken, but they came too late, or too harshly, or without the tenderness they deserved.

Now, in the aftermath, he carried baggage that was invisible yet heavy. He feared repeating mistakes. He feared being too much or not enough. He feared that the next person would see the scars and decide they were too heavy to hold.

Yet the silence between relationships was not only about grief. It was also about preparation. In that liminal space, he carried the possibility of learning, the chance to understand himself more deeply, the courage to name shadows instead of hiding them. He saw this pause was a rehearsal for honesty, for bravery, for the love that might come next.

The baggage was real, but so was the hope. He believed that both could coexist, that the weight of the past could teach him how to walk lighter into the future.

Prologue: The Silence Between Words

There is a space between what we say and what we mean. It is invisible, yet it shapes every relationship we hold. In that space, words are swallowed, emotions are tucked away, and truths are left to gather dust in the corners of our hearts.

We tell ourselves silence is safer. If we keep the peace, if we bite our tongue, if we let the moment pass, the storm will fade. But silence does not fade. It lingers. It grows heavy. It becomes the unspoken weight between two people who once promised to share everything.

Every relationship begins with words. The laughter of first encounters, the vows whispered in the dark, the everyday exchanges that stitch lives together. Over time, those words change. We say, “I’m fine” when we are not. We pretend “It doesn’t matter,” when it matters more than anything. We say, “I’ll let it go” when we are holding on tighter than ever.

And so, the silence builds. It builds in marriages where resentment hides beneath polite smiles. It builds on friendships where hurt is masked by jokes. It builds in families where love is real but never spoken aloud. The silence becomes a wall, and the wall becomes a prison.

This book is about the silence. About the words we leave unsaid, the truths we bury, and the damage that grows when honesty is withheld. It is about the courage to speak, not perfectly or eloquently, but openly. Relationships are not undone by what is spoken in anger nearly as often as they are undone by what is never spoken at all.

If love is a language, silence is its enemy. If trust is a bridge, silence is the crack that weakens its foundation.

Here, within these pages, we will explore the cost of silence and the power of speech. We will see how vulnerability heals, how truth restores, and how words, spoken at the right time, can save what silence would otherwise destroy.

Because in the end, it is not the things we say that haunt us most. It is the things we never said.

Never had the courage to...

 

Silence isn't empty...

Understand my silence

 

I hear and I see