The unspoken monologues aren’t mere thoughts; they’re a part of us. We have them with us, and though we may never say them out loud, they’re an unseen but irrepressible aspect of our story. Let’s start to pay our respects to them—not by hiding.
By making our voices heard, not only at those times when we’re supposed to say something but at the times when it counts. Let’s end the silence and say the things we’ve kept hidden for far too long.
There are certain moments in life when the heart bears such weight, but words never pass through the lips. Thoughts get trapped in the corners of the mind, unsaid, forgotten amidst the daily turmoil, or maybe drowned amidst the expectations of the world. At those moments, the heart softly speaks out what the mind says: “I wish I had said it all.”
We’ve all been there—those conversations left incomplete, those feelings buried deep within layers of pride, fear, and uncertainty. The reality is that life is fast-paced, and sometimes, in the chaos of everything going on around us, we end up neglecting to pause and truly connect. We forget to be open. We forget to say the words that really matter. In a world where everybody has something to say, it’s often the silence that says the most.
REAL-ASHIONSHIPS?
They could be romantic, familial, or friendships—we often find ourselves tangled in the web of “shoulds” and “oughts.” Society, in all its complexities, tells us what a healthy relationship looks like, what a partnership should be, and how people are supposed to behave. But what if the very essence of our connection with others is lost in these prescribed molds? What if we’ve become so busy adhering to what others expect that we’ve forgotten how to honor what we truly want?
“I wish we had tried to work things out, not the way these settings or society wanted us to, but how we wanted things to be.”
It’s a simple yet deep desire. It’s the desire to escape the limits of what others believe should occur and instead create a space where we, together, set the terms. We tend to forget that the most real relationships are the ones that don’t fit anyone else’s mould but rather live in the rawest sense of mutual knowledge, respect, and love.
It’s easy to sit back and imagine the talks we ought to have had, the times we should have fought. It’s easy to be overwhelmed by the what-ifs and yearn for a redo. But the thing is, there’s never just one time. Life is full of thousands of chances to tell the truth, to do it again, to make things work, and to take hold of what feels right—not just what is right.
So why do we stay quiet? Fear, shame, and uncertainty tend to silence us from saying what’s really in our hearts. We’re afraid of judgment, rejection, or even the mere awkwardness of vulnerability. We’re afraid of being misunderstood or too much for someone else to bear. But in the quiet, we bear the weight of unsaid words, of lost possibilities, and of potential that never came to be. The truth is that the unspoken monologues—the silent, hurting thoughts—are where the deepest bits of us really are.
To speak what we feel, to tell our dreams and desires without shame, is an act of radical love. It’s a rebellion against living life according to society and a promise to live it according to ourselves. It’s the bravery to sit with pain and let ourselves be authentic, unfiltered, and exposed. Yes, it may not always turn out as expected. Yes, there will be some awkwardness, misunderstanding, and maybe hurt. But in the end, it’s the only way to respect ourselves and those we care about.
unsaid letter to Parent: For Whom We Left us behind
The unspoken monologues tend to be loudest when it comes to our parents. They’re the ones who have moulded us, who have raised us, but in the process, sometimes their aspirations for us become louder than our own. We’ve been instructed on what to be, how to act, and what to do, and in the process, we tend to lose the passions that were specifically ours.
“I wish I had said it all,” we think, but how could we have? How could we have explained to them that their dream of our life had suppressed ours? How could we have indicated to them that in trying to guarantee our future, they had unknowingly erased our own desires? We didn’t have the words to explain it at times, or maybe we were scared of disappointing them.
They desired security for us, stability, a life that was better than theirs. But somewhere in that good intention, they might have lost something. We sometimes wish we had been brave enough to voice our opinions, to tell them that we didn’t want to use their template. We wanted our own journey, even if it meant not knowing. We wished to make decisions from our own hearts, not out of fear of failing. But even when we were silent in those moments, our love for our parents never changed. We knew the sacrifices they made for us, even if it meant sacrificing ourselves as well.
Maybe it was fear of their disapproval, or perhaps merely the force of tradition and parental expectation. Yet now, looking back, we would give anything to have been able to turn around and say: “I love you, but I had to live a little bit for myself too.” Perhaps we never did learn how to say it, but deep in our hearts, we carry a silent hope—that someday they will look at us not merely as their children but as people capable of creating our own destiny, just the way they always wanted us to.
The Struggles Within
As we consider the monologues—the words that were never said, the emotions that were never expressed—there is a deeper reality that frequently goes unsaid: it all becomes too heavy to bear. The demands, the unmet longings, the love that was never given its voice, the weight of our families, relationships, and society’s expectations—sometimes, it all accumulates and makes us feel smothered, lost, and unseen.
The ever-present pressure to live up to the expectations of others, to walk a road that isn’t our own, can make us feel trapped in our own existence. The silence we keep, the weight of not being able to say our truth, can sometimes make it seem like there’s no escape. These unspoken words, these unfulfilled longings, can stir up a tempest within us that becomes too loud, too overwhelming.
In these moments, the darkness can seem all-encompassing. Suicidal thoughts may creep in as a desperate attempt to escape the pain, to end the internal conflict, and to silence the world around us. The pressure to be perfect, to live up to others’ expectations, can feel unbearable. The weight of our unsaid monologues—our unmet needs and desires—can lead us to believe that we’re not enough or that there’s no way forward.
But here’s the reality we sometimes forget in the worst of times: you’re not alone, and there’s always hope. The hurt we experience is real, but it doesn’t define us. It’s temporary, and it doesn’t mean the world has no use for our voice or our truth. To say our pain, however hard that is, is the beginning of healing. It’s the acknowledgement that even though the weight feels overwhelming, we don’t have to bear it alone. We are empowered to shatter the silence, to say what we need to say, and to get the help we deserve.
Our unsaid monologues don’t have to lie hidden within us. They don’t have to rot quietly. When we speak our torment, our pain, our longing, we embark on the beginning of healing. And in the process, we realise that we are deserving of love, understanding, and affection, just the way we are. We are deserving of going our own way, even when it’s different from what the world wants from us.
So, if you’re reading this and feeling the pressure of unwritten words, the weight of expectations, or the shadow of suffocating thoughts—know this: You are important. Your voice is important. Call out, say what you must say, and don’t be afraid to reach out for help. There’s always a way, and you don’t have to go it alone.
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