A Letter I Might Never Send
(But written because you should know you were once someone I quietly loved)
I donât know if youâll ever read this. Maybe one day Iâll be brave enough to share it. Or maybe it will remain folded away in a drawer, like the feelings I kept quiet all those years. Either way, I needed to write it.
You've lived quietly in my thoughts for a long timeâŚnever loud, never demanding. Just⌠there. A familiar warmth I carried with me through so many seasons. And even now, after all this time, it's not regret I feel, but gratitude. For you. For what never was, but always mattered.
Thereâs one moment I return to again and again.
That night⌠the one with the northern lights.
The sky was dark, and you stood beside me, your face uncertain. âIs that it?â you asked, eyes scanning a sky that looked mostly like any other. Faint streaks hovered at the edge of vision, too shy for untrained eyes to catch. I took a photo, turned the screen toward you, and there it was a veil of light, soft and real, finally visible. I watched your eyes dance in awe when you saw it⌠when you truly saw it. That look will stay with me for the rest of my life.
And in that quiet, magical moment, something inside me ached with recognition.
Because thatâs how Iâve felt about you, all this time.
My feelings soft, quiet, lingering⌠always there in the background. Not bold enough to be seen right away, not loud enough to demand attention. But there. Always there.
Maybe, like the aurora, they needed a little help, a tool, a shift, a right moment to be noticed.
Maybe you felt it too. Maybe not. But I saw it in the way you looked at me sometimes, in the way you remembered little things I said, in the way our hands met and didnât pull away.
We were something unspoken. A constellation of almosts.
And even if we were never meant to be more, I want you to know:
Just to be around you. Just to have shared that night.
And if the sky ever lights up again, I hope you'll remember that I was the one beside you the first time you saw it.
Our paths crossed, once, under rare lights. And I think a part of me will always glow because of it.
So if this letter ever finds you, itâs not a confession, itâs a thank you.
Thank you for that night.
For being someone Iâll always remember, even if we were never meant to become anything more than that.
Not everything has to become something.
But some things are still worth remembering.
With all the quiet truths,
romaincrisis
blakekathryn
theartofmadeline
