THE WORDS I DIDN’T SAY

There are moments when words escape me. I can’t find them, I can’t say them, or I feel like I’m not allowed to. They linger in a corner of my mind, suspended, hidden among my thoughts, turning into shadows of what they could have been. But where do the words I don’t say go? They remain trapped inside me, hanging in the air like rain-heavy clouds that never fall. Or they settle deep within, leaving a mark, a groove, a rigid scar that I will always feel.

My mind grows harder, my thoughts are no longer free to flow; they must struggle through scars, obstacles, and the narrow passages of unspoken words. Passages crowded with ghosts, gathering like stagnant water in a dark corner. This forced silence, which once seemed necessary, comfortable, polite, ends up feeding doubts and insecurities. Sometimes it turns into regret; other times, it becomes a ghost that returns when I least expect it, in ways I never imagined—anxiety, anger, torment.

But as I reflect on all this, one word comes to mind—one of the hardest to say, but even harder to think and feel: NO. The refusal that allows me to stay free, to keep my mind flexible, preventing it from stagnating among ghosts and suffocated words.

And yet, there is hope: unspoken words can be found again. Maybe I will never say them to those I once wanted to, maybe the right moment has passed, maybe time has changed everything.

I will start here: if I cannot yet speak the words I didn’t say, at least I will think them again.

Maria Giubettini