Things I'll never say.

It started quietly.

Like a song I didn’t mean to hear,

but somehow it got stuck in my head —

You got stuck in my head.

You’re not even my type.

I told myself that a thousand times, as if saying it enough would keep me safe.

But there’s something about you —

a tone in your voice,

the way you look at people when you’re listening,

The familiar energy that shouldn’t affect me but does.

And now here I am,

caught between denial and desire,

feeling things I never planned to feel.

It came like an ambush —

that moment of realization.

when the jealousy burned low, fast and quiet;

When I saw you talking and laughing with someone else.

The ache in my chest that whispered, “Why not me?”

And I hated that I cared.

I hated that I felt.

You make me weak in ways I can’t explain —

open, vulnerable, soft in the edges I’ve kept sharp for so long.

And I don’t even know when it started.

Maybe in those small exchanges,

the fleeting glances that meant nothing to you, but everything to me.

I want you to look at me — see me;

See what I don’t say.

Feel what I hide behind the calm.

But I know you won’t.

Or maybe you will, just not the way I hope you would.

So I started to pretend.

I laugh, I act indifferent, I play the part of someone untouched.

But inside, I’m drowning quietly —

in thoughts I never meant to have,

in feelings I’ll never admit,

in a longing I’ll never voice.

And through this letter, these words—

It's the only place I can confess to the things I’ll never say.

The Moonlit Pen

13.10.2025