A Letter from the Wounded Heart

(A Letter Under the Moonlight)

My Dear Stranger,

How have you been? It’s been a while since my last letter.

Do you know something? Sometimes this feeling of missing you crashes over me — too deep to contain.

It sweeps me into a place I’ve never known before;

a strange, tender world, painted in light, flowers, and butterflies.

My Dear Stranger,

Are you happy now?

Truly happy —with your new life, with who you’ve become, with the person you see in the mirror today?

Have you ever felt like something was missing, but couldn’t quite name what it was —Or maybe you knew, but pretended not to?

The older I grow, the more I realize I never truly understood what happiness means.

How to laugh freely without waiting for the sorrow that follows.

How to feel joy without bracing for pain.

How to live without holding my breath for the next heartbreak.

My Dear Stranger, tell me…

How does it feel to have a family that stays?

Parents who love and protect you?

Siblings who are proud of you?

Friends who truly see you?

Someone who needs you, and loves you — simply because you exist?

How does it feel to have a childhood that felt safe?

To dream without fear?

To grow up without feeling alone?

To trust someone — anyone —besides yourself?

To let someone in, and not regret it later?

My Dear Stranger,

I grew up as a fighter —a quiet survivor.

I spent my life trying to belong, to matter, to be seen, to become someone worth keeping.

I survived endless battles;

In silence and pain, I changed —slowly, quietly, without even realizing it.

I built walls. I self-taught my heart to turn cold.

And somewhere along the way,

I began lying to myself —convincing myself I didn’t feel anything, when the truth was…I felt everything.

My Dear Stranger,

The last person I trusted broke me badly—not just my heart, but every piece of defense I had left.

That day, I shattered completely.

Felt to my knees, empty, breathless, tired beyond words.

My fight ended there. I gave up. I surrendered.

My parents hurt me.

My siblings hurt me.

My family hurt me.

My friends hurt me.

Everyone I love —hurt me.

And so... I hurt myself too —as if punishing myself for letting them do it, again and again.

For not knowing how to fight back.

For not being strong enough to walk away.

My Dear Stranger,

For the longest time, I believed that strength meant not breaking —to stay composed, to never fall apart, to keep smiling even when everything inside me was quietly collapsing.

But life has a strange way of teaching us otherwise.

I’ve learned that sometimes, true strength lies in surrender —in allowing yourself to break, to cry, to fall to pieces and still find the courage to gather yourself once more.

Strength is when the tears stop, and your heart whispers,“Maybe tomorrow, I’ll try again.”

Because no matter how many times I tried to turn my heart to stone, it still remembers how to feel. It still aches. It still loves. It still believes —in something, in someone, in hope.

And perhaps that’s what it means to be human —to keep believing, even after being broken.

To still want to love, even after learning how much it can hurt.

My Dear Stranger, I’ve realized that pain never truly disappears —It simply transforms.

It becomes silent. It becomes art. It becomes empathy.

It becomes the way I write these words — not for anyone, and yet, somehow, for someone.

Maybe this letter is not really about you. Maybe it’s about the part of me that still longs to be seen —the part that still hopes someone, somewhere, would understand.

I don’t know where you are now, or who you’ve become.

But maybe, just maybe, we’re walking the same road —searching for meaning, for peace, for the place where our souls can finally rest.

My Dear Stranger,

If someday, you ever feel lost, remember this: You’re not alone.

Somewhere in this vast, quiet world, someone once felt the same ache in their chest, the same longing, the same storm —and somehow, survived it.

And maybe that’s what connects us —"two strangers" who write from the same wound, who dream from the same heart.

So wherever you are;

I hope the moonlight finds you tonight, soft and gentle, just enough to remind you —You’re still here.

You’re still worthy. You’re still loved.

With stillness and heart,

The Moonlit Pen 🌙

May 6, 2021