The Public Archive
May it be seen
may it be found
To Natalie
“You may never love me again, but thank you for loving me before - even if its just for that short while. That was the happiest period of my life.”
Read letter →To P
“I think I miss the version of me who still believed there was time. Time to explain. Time to fix it. Time to hold you a little longer before everything became memory. I have typed your name more times than I have said it out loud. I have deleted messages that were honest, kind, angry, pathetic, and everything in between. In the end, I sent nothing. Maybe silence was the last thing I could give you without asking for anything back. But if this ever finds you, I hope you know this: You were not easy to forget. You were not just a chapter. You were the page I kept reopening, even after the story had ended. And on the days you feel unloved, I hope the world is gentle enough to remind you that someone once cared for you quietly, completely and from far away.”
Read letter →To Ben
“I heard about your milestone today. For a moment, everything went quiet. Not in a bad way, just in that strange way life reminds you that people can become distant and still matter. I do not know what today looked like for you. Maybe it was loud and full of congratulations. Maybe it was complicated. Maybe you smiled because you had to then went home carrying more feelings than anyone noticed. Whatever kind of day it was, I hope there was at least one moment where you looked at yourself and thought, I made it here. Because you did. And I know it could not have been easy. There was a time when I would have been one of the first people to say this to you. I would have found some small way to make it bigger, lighter, more ridiculous, more ours. Instead, I am here, placing the words somewhere they cannot interrupt your life. I am proud of you. Not in a way that asks for anything back. Not in a way that tries to reopen a door. Just quietly. Honestly. From a distance. You deserved this moment. You deserved to be seen for the work, the patience, the surviving, the trying again. I hope the right people made you feel that today. And I hope the future is gentle with you. May this be the start of something that feels like breathing again. May the next door open easier. May you receive the kind of recognition that does not make you question whether you are worthy of it. I still remember how you once celebrated me when I needed it. I have carried that kindness longer than you probably know. So today, even if you never hear it from me, I am sending it back. Congratulations babe Some people leave our everyday lives, but not the part of us that still hopes they win.”
Read letter →To Pris
“Dear you, It has been a year and I still do not know how to explain the kind of grief that comes from losing someone who is still alive. People talk about heartbreak like it only belongs to love but friendship has its own kind of ending too. Quieter, maybe. Less dramatic from the outside. But inside, it can feel like losing a language only the two of you spoke. You were the person I thought would always have a place in my life. The one I imagined growing old beside in some ordinary, ridiculous way. The one I thought I would still be sending voice notes to years from now, laughing about things nobody else would understand. And then you were gone. For a long time, I kept trying to make sense of it. I turned the story over and over in my head, looking for the exact moment everything changed. I blamed you. Then I blamed myself. Then I blamed timing, pain, mental health, the things neither of us knew how to carry properly. The truth is, I think we were both drowning. I just did not know how to save you without going under too. I am sorry for the ways I failed you. I am sorry for the times I was too tired, too overwhelmed, too wrapped up in my own hurt to notice the depth of yours. I wanted to be stronger for you. I wanted to be the kind of person who could stay through anything. But I was breaking too. That is the part I still struggle with. I know I left parts of you unanswered. I know there were moments when you needed me and I did not have enough of myself left to give. I also know that being hurt does not make everything okay. Both things can be true and I am still learning how to live with that. Some days I miss you gently. Other days I miss you with anger in my chest. I wonder who gets the version of you I was always waiting for. I wonder if you are softer now. Happier now. Easier to love now. I wonder if someone else gets to know you without the sharp edges that cut me. And even though I hate admitting it, I hope they do. I hope life has been kind to you. I hope you have found peace in places I could not give you. I hope you have forgiven yourself for the things you did when you were not okay. I am trying to forgive myself too. A year later, my life looks different. I have grown around the empty space you left. I have laughed again. I have loved again. I have become someone I think you might have recognized maybe even been proud of. But there are still days when something small happens and I reach for you in my mind. Then I remember. You are no longer there. So I write this here because I do not know where else to put it. I miss who we were. I miss who we almost became. And I think a part of me will always keep a little room for you, even if you never come back.”
Read letter →To To the one reading it!!
“When Life Doesn't Match the Promise We Imagined Hello, I am Zahra. As a Muslim, I grew up learning the beautiful words from Surah An-Nur (24:26): "Good women are for good men, and good men are for good women." Like many others, I understood this verse as a promise that goodness would naturally find goodness, and that a kind heart would eventually be rewarded with a kind companion. But as I grew older and observed life around me, I realized that reality can be far more complex. Not every good person is blessed with a loving spouse. Not every sincere heart finds a healthy relationship. Some people find themselves carrying the weight of toxic marriages, emotional neglect, betrayal, or loneliness despite their best intentions and efforts. This raises a difficult question: What should we do when life doesn't unfold the way we expected? Some may say divorce is the answer. For certain situations, it may indeed be necessary and beneficial. Yet divorce is not always simple, and it does not automatically erase pain or guarantee happiness. Every path carries its own challenges. So where do we go from here? Perhaps the answer begins with remembering that our worth was never meant to depend entirely on another person's ability to love us. There may have been a time when you felt deeply loved and cared for. Maybe those days seem distant now. Yet the capacity to love, heal, grow, and find meaning still exists within you. You are still here. You are still valuable. You are still worthy of kindness, dignity, and peace. My suggestion may sound simple, even naïve to some, but I believe there is wisdom in returning to the things that quietly restore us. Nature has a remarkable way of recharging the weary soul. A walk beneath a sky painted with evening colors. The rustling of leaves in the wind. The rhythm of ocean waves meeting the shore. The silence of a garden after rainfall. These moments do not solve every problem, but they remind us that life is larger than our suffering. They create space for healing, reflection, and renewed strength. When relationships drain us, nature often gives back what we have lost: calmness, perspective, patience, and hope. If you are carrying the burden of a difficult relationship today, know this: Your story is not over. Your pain is not your identity. And your future is not defined solely by the choices or behavior of another person. Sometimes healing begins not with a grand solution, but with a small act of self-care, a quiet prayer, a walk beneath the open sky, or a decision to believe that better days can still arrive. Life may not always give us the companion we hoped for, but it can still offer moments of beauty, growth, and renewal. Keep faith. Keep growing. And whenever your spirit feels exhausted, allow nature, reflection, and hope to help recharge your heart once again.”
Read letter →To A
“You always asked if I was working hard. You asked if I was earning enough. You asked if I had a plan. You asked what other people were doing, where they were living, who they had become. But I do not remember you asking if I was happy. Maybe happiness sounded too soft to you. Maybe survival taught you that peace was a luxury and achievement was safer to measure. I understand that now more than I did when I was younger. But it still hurt. Because every time I came home tired, I felt like I had to present evidence that my life was worth respecting. A better job. A better title. A better answer. I wanted to tell you I was scared. I wanted to tell you I was lonely. I wanted to tell you that I was trying so hard to become someone you could be proud of, I forgot to ask whether I still liked myself. But the words never came out. So I smiled, said work was fine and carried it alone.”
Read letter →To Naomi
“I still miss you, but I am not asking you to fix that I hate that I do, because missing someone makes me feel like I failed at moving on. But I have learned that missing you and wanting to disturb your peace are not the same thing. So I am not here to disturb your peace. I am not here to ask what you are doing, who you are with, or whether you ever think of me when the room gets quiet. I am only writing this because some feelings become heavier when they have nowhere to go. You were important to me. Even now. Even after everything. Even after all the ways we hurt each other by not knowing how to stay soft.”
Read letter →To Yu Xuan
“I used to think love was enough. That if two people loved each other, everything else would somehow bend around it. But now I know love can exist inside bad timing, bad habits, pride, fear, and silence. Love can be real and still be handled badly. I handled us badly. I thought being quiet was peacekeeping. I thought avoiding difficult conversations was protecting what we had. I thought you would understand the things I never said, because somehow I believed love made people telepathic. It does not. You needed clarity. I gave you confusion. You needed presence. I gave you absence and called it space. If we ever find our way back to the same table, I do not want to start by asking you to trust me. Because if we ever get another chance, it should not begin with me deciding the terms. It should begin with you finally being heard.”
Read letter →To Jason
“I do not know if this letter will make you angry, sad, or nothing at all. Maybe nothing is what I deserve. I have replayed our ending more times than I want to admit. Not because I think I can fix it by thinking about it, but because there are parts of it I still cannot forgive myself for. I made you explain your pain too many times. I made you fight for basic gentleness. I turned your honesty into pressure. I called it overthinking when it was actually you trying to save us. I am sorry. Not the kind of sorry that expects a reply. Not the kind that tries to reopen a door. Just the kind of sorry that finally sits down and admits the truth. I hurt you. And if one day, in some impossible version of the future, you ever choose to speak to me again, I want you to have the card. Three wishes. Three questions. Three moments where you get to say what you need, and I do not get to run, defend, joke, or disappear. You may never use it. That is okay. It belongs to you because I know I lost the right to ask anything from you. This is not me asking to come back. This is me finally understanding that love without accountability was just another way of being selfish.”
Read letter →To Kyle
“I should have stayed a little longer I still remember the last time we spoke like it was nothing. That is the part that hurts. There was no dramatic ending. No shouting. No final speech. Just two people slowly becoming strangers while pretending it was normal. I wish I had stayed a little longer in that conversation. I wish I had asked one more question. I wish I had been brave enough to say, “Are we okay?” before we clearly were not. Maybe nothing would have changed. Maybe everything would have. I think regret is not always about what you did. Sometimes it is about the small moment where you could have reached out, but chose to protect your pride instead. I protected mine. And I lost you quietly.”
Read letter →To Susan
“I’m sorry I made you feel alone I keep thinking about the times you tried to explain how you felt, and I turned it into a debate. You were not asking me to win. You were asking me to listen. I am sorry I made you feel dramatic when you were only being honest. I am sorry I treated your pain like an inconvenience. I think I was scared that if I admitted you were hurt, I would also have to admit I was the reason. You deserved softness from me. Instead, I gave you silence, excuses, and pride. I do not know if this apology reaches you in the way it should have back then. But somewhere in me, I hope you know I finally understand. You were not too much. I was not careful enough.”
Read letter →To Paul
“I’m sorry I made you feel alone I keep thinking about the times you tried to explain how you felt, and I turned it into a debate. You were not asking me to win. You were asking me to listen. I am sorry I made you feel dramatic when you were only being honest. I am sorry I treated your pain like an inconvenience. I think I was scared that if I admitted you were hurt, I would also have to admit I was the reason. You deserved softness from me. Instead, I gave you silence, excuses, and pride. I do not know if this apology reaches you in the way it should have back then. But somewhere in me, I hope you know I finally understand. You were not too much. I was not careful enough.”
Read letter →To PK
“I do think about you all the time. Should have held on to you tighter the day we parted. I couldn't bring myself to reach out no matter how badly I want to so I can only stalk from a distance. Know that someone cares on days when you feel down. I am sorry I couldn't be the pillar I promised.”
Read letter →