There are messages in the world that were written but not delivered. Calls were made and then dropped. Hands lingered over the word “Send,” but could not press it. Someone thought of you somewhere, perhaps in the late-night glow of a phone screen or the calm aisle of a supermarket store. However, you’ll never know. Not because they weren’t interested. But because life intervened, making things soft and convoluted. Fog rolls in over a familiar street, distorting what was previously obvious. We assume that communication is simple: if they wanted to, they would. But that is a fantastic tale delivered with conviction. Reality is calmer, more unpredictable, and much more human. Someone did want to. And they did not.
The Archive of Almost
We have a veritable museum of things we almost said in our minds. It is filled with ideas written on the edges of notebooks, draft notes, and conversations that only existed in our heads. The Zeigarnik Effect is the term used by psychologists to describe this mental tendency to hold onto unfinished concepts. But it feels more like magic, doesn’t it? The unsaid continues to create a buzz in the atmosphere, suggesting that an unknowable moment—someone stopping at your name—can be real yet unfinished and last a lifetime.
“Some of the most beautiful connections are the ones that never quite became.” — Beau Taplin.
Somewhere, an old friend recalls your laughter. A cousin looks at your picture and smiles, without dropping a comment or reacting to your post. When your old coworker hears your favourite song on the radio, they momentarily reminisce about inside jokes and coffee breaks.
What the Brain Forgets, the Heart Remembers
We may have a severe gatekeeper in our prefrontal cortex, which assesses risks and consequences. It cuts us off in the middle of our sentences with questions like, “What if they’ve moved on? What if it’s strange now?” We thus come to a halt. The same story, told more kindly, is provided by attachment theory: people fear intimacy for several reasons. To protect themselves, some people withdraw. Others think too much about every word. Not even the bravest of us can always press “Send.” But just because something happens doesn’t mean that the intention goes away.
Human, Not Heroic
We imagine lost connections as scenes from movies: yelling names and hurrying through crowds and at train stations. However, the majority are quieter and smaller: A phone call was picked up and then carefully put down again. After resurfacing from a search history, a contact was looked at and then swiped away. “Hey, I was just…” and nothing else in a text message. Some people wait for the appropriate words. Fear, pride, time, or a thousand other unspoken factors keep others quiet; the message wanes. The window of opportunity has closed. How about the feeling? Like the smell of an old sweater, it lingers.
“There’s no such thing as an empty silence. It always carries something unsaid.” — Yara Zgheib.
You’ve Done It Too, Haven’t You?
Over names, you have hovered. Just to listen to a voice, you played a voicemail. After reading someone’s earlier posts, you wondered if it would be strange to get in touch now. You’ve had long conversations with people you haven’t spoken to in years in your mind. I was grateful, or I’m sorry. Or maybe I just miss the old days.
We all do. Each of us is filled with these little unread letters, moments we wanted to share but kept to ourselves instead.
The Magic of What Could Have Been
In a way, it’s funny to think that people are thinking about us even when we don’t realise it. That somewhere, at this very moment, someone is laughing at your memories and feeling a compassion that words cannot describe. Disclosure is not always required. Not every thought needs an answer. Some forms of affection are shy. Some farewells are considerate. The very fact that they were never fully repaired makes some relationships all the more beautiful.
“Some people come into your life as a whisper. Others leave as one.”
— Unknown
So the next time you feel forgotten, unloved, or alone in your corner of the universe, remember this:
Someone thought of you. Someone tried to reach you—in a moment so brief, so fragile, it never quite made it. Someone missed you in a language they never learnt how to speak again. And the most quietly heartbreaking truth of all? We still never get to know who thought of us, and we let that moment go.
Let that sink in.
