Dear Unknown,

Letter to ………………………………………..

Have you ever sat across from someone you love, watching them, waiting—hoping—that they would just know? That they would hear the silent cries beneath your laughter, see the exhaustion behind your forced smile, or notice the weight of the things you’re too afraid to say?

I have.

And I convinced myself, again and again, that if they truly loved me, they would understand—without words, without explanation. Because isn’t that what love is supposed to be? A deep, unspoken knowing? A connection so strong that words become unnecessary?

But they didn’t see. Not because they didn’t care, but because they couldn’t read my mind. And yet, I held on to my silence like it was a shield—one that I thought would protect me from rejection, from feeling too exposed, from the fear that maybe, just maybe, my needs were too much.

Why do we do this? Why do we expect love to come with an instruction manual written in invisible ink?

Maybe it’s because we’ve been told that the “right” person will just get us. That if love is real, it should be effortless, intuitive, almost psychic. That they should know when to hold us without asking when to reassure us without prompting, and when to fight for us without being told we feel abandoned. But love isn’t a fairytale, is it? It’s not a perfectly choreographed dance where both partners always move in sync.

And yet we hesitate.                             

We hesitate because vulnerability is terrifying. Saying, “I need you,” feels like handing over a piece of ourselves that might not be held with care. Because admitting our needs makes us feel raw, exposed, and open to the possibility of being met with indifference.

But tell me—what’s worse? The discomfort of asking or the ache of feeling unseen?

I wonder, dear Unknown, how many love stories have unravelled not because love was absent but because words were? How many couples have drifted apart not from a lack of feeling but from the weight of the unsaid?

Do you Believe in acceptance?

Letter to the Unknown

I think of all the times I have bitten my tongue, convinced that silence was safer. What if I spoke my truth—if I said, “I need more from you,” “I feel alone,” or “I wish you would see me”—I would push love away instead of drawing it closer? So I stayed quiet. I swallowed my needs. I smiled when I wanted to scream. I softened my edges, hoping it would make me easier to love.

But real love is not built on unspoken rules and silent expectations. It is not a guessing game where the winner is the one who deciphers the other’s hidden messages first. It is not about hoping someone will just know—it is about choosing to communicate even when it feels uncomfortable, about risking vulnerability for the sake of connection.

I wonder how many times we have punished the people we love for not meeting expectations we never expressed. How many times have we withdrawn, not because they hurt us but because they didn’t read our minds? How many times have we walked away, convinced they didn’t care when, in reality, they just didn’t know?

And so I ask you, dear Unknown—how many “should have said” are haunting the corridors of your heart? How many moments have you spent waiting for someone to just know what you need instead of gathering the courage to say it out loud?

Maybe it’s time.

Maybe it’s time to speak, to lay down the burden of silent suffering, to give love a chance to meet us in the space of honesty instead of assumption. Maybe it’s time to stop testing love and start trusting it.

Because love should not be a riddle to solve but a truth to be shared.

So here it is—my love letter to the unsaid, to the moments we let slip away, to the hearts we hope will understand us without words. But love is not silence. Love is an expression, love is effort, and love is choosing to be heard.

With honesty,

A Voice from the Unsaid

Also read: History Of Love Letters