BACKSPACE: all the things I almost said.

There are the pieces of my life, i always wanted to share but never found enough courage to. The stories that echoed a hundred times in my head, only to be deleted before they landed. Not because they weren't true, but because I wasn't sure if they deserved space in someone else's world. 

Some of my most honest confessions, the moments of truth - small heartbreaks, quiet joys, things that mattered deeply- never made it past the blinking cursor.

Typed

Paused 

Backspaced.

Because the vulnerability felt too loud and silence was easier to carry. 

But those words mattered. 

Those stories carried weight. 

They deserved space. 

They just didn't find it then.

And things I wanted to say louder,

they still live in my throat,

Unspoken, but not unfelt.

They cut quietly,

Like wounds that never bled but never healed.

And maybe that's the hardest part, carrying stories that no one knows you're holding. Smiling when something aches quietly inside. Answering "I'm fine" when a part of you is screaming, "I just want someone to see.. without me having to explain it all."

But silence, even when chosen leaves traces. It builds up in the body, in tired eyes, heavy chest, in over explaining or never speaking it all. 

There are words I've almost sent, text I typed out at 02:00 AM, notes I saved and never read again, feelings I tried to translate into sentences but couldn't find it. 

So many things I wanted to say but couldn't, i typed it a hundred times or even more. And each time my hands shivered and I ended up hitting backspace. 

Not because it didn't matter, but because it did. 

Too much

Maybe one day,

those words will find their voice,

not rushed, not forced,

but in a moment soft enough to hold them.

Until then,

they’ll rest in the quiet between sentences,

in the hush of midnight drafts,

and in the sacred pause between

the heart speaking

and the fingers reaching

for backspace.

I wish not to hit the backspace this time.

Raman