Dear Someone: There's no shame in missing someone who doesn't miss you back.

Read this if you're carrying the weight of unspoken words for someone who no longer wants to hear them, and your heart still holds space for a connection they've chosen to end

Dear, Dear Someone, _

The hardest words to hold inside are "I miss you." They sit heavy in your chest, pressing against your ribs, fighting to escape with every breath. They wake you in the middle of the night, echo in empty rooms, and whisper through the spaces where laughter used to live.

There's a particular ache in missing someone who has chosen to step away. It's a unique kind of loneliness, holding one end of a conversation that will never be finished. The words pile up like unopened letters, each one carrying fragments of thoughts they'll never hear, stories they'll never share, moments they'll never know.

Missing someone isn't always a desperate plea for their return. Sometimes it's simply acknowledging that they mattered, that their presence made a difference, that the space they once filled still holds the shape of their absence. It's recognizing that some people leave footprints on our hearts that time doesn't erase.

The hardest part isn't just the missing - it's the knowing. Knowing they're out there, probably living their life without a second thought about the space they once occupied in yours. Knowing they've made a conscious choice to step away from the connection you still cherish. Knowing that while you keep their safe harbor ready, they've already set sail for different shores.

The silence between former friends carries its own language. It speaks of inside jokes that no one else would understand, of shared moments that now only exist in one person's memory, of trust that was once as natural as breathing. It tells stories of late-night conversations that seemed endless, of understanding that required no words, of safety found in simple presence.

When someone chooses to end a friendship, they take with them not just their presence but also the future possibilities. All the conversations that will never happen, the memories that will never be made, the understanding that will never deepen - these become ghosts that haunt the corners of your mind.

There's no shame in missing someone who doesn't miss you back. There's no weakness in holding space in your heart for someone who has closed theirs to you. Your capacity to care, to remember, to honor what was real - these are not flaws to be corrected but testaments to your ability to love deeply and authentically.

The urge to apologize for your feelings, to say sorry for being exactly who you are, often comes from a place of deep hurt. But your authenticity isn't a mistake to be remedied. Your depth isn't a flaw to be fixed. Your capacity for connection isn't something that requires an apology.

Missing someone doesn't mean you're stuck in the past. It doesn't mean you're not healing or growing or moving forward. It simply means you're human, capable of holding both loss and hope, both memory and possibility, both what was and what could be.

Your open heart, even in the face of rejection, is not your weakness - it's your strength. Your willingness to remain authentic, even when it hurts, is not your failing - it's your power. Your ability to hold space for someone who no longer wants it is not your shortcoming - it's your gift.

Remember that being someone's safe space doesn't always mean they'll choose to stay there. Some people aren't ready for the depth you offer. Some aren't equipped to handle the authenticity you bring. Some aren't prepared for the kind of connection you're capable of creating.

Let yourself feel the missing without turning it into self-blame. Let yourself acknowledge the loss without making it about your worth. Let yourself honor what was real without diminishing who you are.

Your heart's capacity to hold both love and loss, both memory and hope, both what was and what is - this is not something to apologize for. This is something to celebrate, even in its aching. This is something to honour, even in its hurting.

Continue to be who you are - deep, authentic, caring. Continue to offer your truth, your depth, your ability to create safe spaces. The right people will recognize these as gifts, not burdens. The right connections will welcome your depth, not run from it.

With gentle acceptance of all that you are,

—Ali Papa.

PS — The people who make us feel like we need to apologize for being ourselves are often the ones who should be apologizing for making us feel that way.

P.S.S — What follows is not just an addition to this letter, but a companion for your journey forward. I've created a navigator's kit for those moments when the path feels uncertain or when you need to remember the strength that lives within your sensitivity. You'll find healing metaphors that transform abstract feelings into tangible understanding, permission slips that free you from the weight of expectations, specific markers for when to revisit these words, prompts to guide your own writing practice, and practical tools to transform insight into action. Think of these sections as different rooms in a house of healing - each serving its purpose, each waiting for you when you need it most. Some days you'll need the quiet reflection space of the writing prompts; other days, you'll find comfort in the practical actions of the tools section. Visit them in any order, as often as you need. They're designed not to rush you forward, but to help you move at the pace of genuine healing, honoring both where you've been and where you're going. Let these resources be your companions as you navigate this chapter of your story, remembering that every step forward - no matter how small - is a victory worth celebrating.

—Today's Meditation: On Honoring Hearts That Remember

May you find peace in knowing that missing someone is proof of your heart's capacity to love deeply. May we all remember that holding space for absent friends speaks to our strength, not our weakness. May you treat your tender feelings with the same gentleness you'd offer a dear friend. May we all learn that authenticity needs no apology. May you trust that your depth is a gift, not a burden. May we all understand that some hearts are meant to hold memories longer than others. May you feel the freedom to honor what was real without diminishing who you are. May we all recognize that missing someone and moving forward can coexist. May you embrace your ability to care deeply as a power, not a flaw. May we all learn that some spaces in our hearts are meant to stay tender. May you find comfort in knowing that your capacity for connection is beautiful, even when it aches. May everything that once brought joy be remembered without shame. May you walk forward carrying both your memories and your worth with equal grace.

—Gentle Reminders for Hard Days:

1. When the weight of unspoken words feels too heavy, remember that your ability to feel deeply isn't a flaw - it's proof that your heart works exactly as it should, honoring connections even after they've ended.

2. During moments when missing them feels overwhelming, pause and acknowledge that you're not missing their absence - you're remembering the authenticity of what was real, and that's perfectly okay.

3. If you catch yourself apologizing for holding space they no longer want, gently remind yourself that your depth isn't too much - it's simply not meant for everyone, and that's not a reflection on your worth.

4. On days when their silence echoes loudest, remember that your capacity to care doesn't need reciprocation to be valuable. Your heart's generosity stands on its own.

5. When memories surface unexpectedly, treat them like old photographs - acknowledge them with gentle recognition, but don't feel pressured to dwell in their presence. You can honour what was while still moving forward.

6. In moments when you question why you still care when they don't, remember that your authentic heart isn't measured by others' capacity to match its depth. Your ability to hold both love and loss makes you beautifully human, not broken.

—Bridge to Tomorrow:

1. Memory Release Ritual: Take 15 minutes tonight to write down three unspoken messages you've been holding for them. Rather than sending these words into the void of their silence, transform them into self-compassion statements. For example, "I miss sharing my thoughts with you" becomes "I honor my need for meaningful connection, and I trust that new conversations await."

2. Safe Harbour Meditation: Create a 5-minute daily practice of acknowledging your depth as strength. Stand in front of a mirror and speak directly to your reflection: "I celebrate my capacity to care deeply. My authenticity doesn't need permission. My heart's ability to remember is not a weakness." Do this every morning for the next day, especially when the missing feels strongest.

3. Connection Redirection: Choose one thing you used to share with them (a type of story, a joke, a observation) and intentionally share it with someone else who values your depth - or even write it in a journal dedicated to your own growth. This practice helps redirect your natural desire to connect while honoring your need to express.

4. Present Moment Anchoring: Each time you feel the weight of their absence today, place your hand on your heart and name three things currently present in your life that bring you joy or peace. This simple act helps bridge the gap between honoring past connections and embracing current blessings.

—Tools to Take with You:

1. The Memory Timer Practice

   Set a designated time (15-20 minutes) each day or week for intentional remembering. When memories or feelings surface outside this time, gently note them and say, "I see you, and we'll explore this during our next memory time." This creates healthy boundaries around processing while honoring your need to remember.

   → Example: "Every Sunday at 4 PM, I sit with my journal and allow myself to fully feel, remember, and reflect. Outside this time, I practice gentle redirection."

2. The Wisdom Exchange Ritual

   Keep a two-column journal: "What I Lost" | "What I Gained." For every loss entry you write, challenge yourself to find its hidden gift or learning. This isn't about toxic positivity, but about recognizing how loss transforms into wisdom.

   → Example:

   Lost: "Their unconditional support during hard times"

   Gained: "The strength to be my own first responder and the wisdom to build a diverse support network"

3. The Growth Garden Tracker

   Create a simple chart marking small victories in your healing journey. Include three categories:

   - New Behaviours ("I attended a social event alone")

   - Emotional Milestones ("I felt joy without guilt")

   - Self-Discovery Moments ("I realized I'm more resilient than I knew")

   Track these weekly, focusing on progress rather than perfection.

4. The Connection Expansion Method

   Identify three qualities you valued most in the lost relationship. Each month, choose one way to express or cultivate these qualities in other relationships or self-care practices.

   → Example: If you valued their listening skills:

   - Week 1: Practice deep listening with a current friend

   - Week 2: Join a support group to both receive and offer understanding

   - Week 3: Start journaling to better listen to yourself

   - Week 4: Volunteer at a crisis hotline

5. The Emotional Weather Report

   Develop a personal 1-10 scale for measuring your emotional weather, where 1 is "storm" and 10 is "clear skies." Each morning, check in with yourself:

   - What's my number today?

   - What's affecting my forecast?

   - What tools do I need for this weather?

   This helps you respond to your needs with appropriate self-care while recognizing that, like weather, emotional states are temporary and cyclical.

   Each tool includes a small notebook section to track:

   - When you used it

   - What you noticed

   - How it helped

   - What you'd adjust for next time

   Remember: These tools work best when customized to your needs. Start with the one that resonates most, adapt it as needed, and add others gradually as you feel ready.

—Questions to Ask Yourself:

1. When you think about missing them today compared to a month ago, has the feeling changed from an urgent ache to a quieter acknowledgment? Notice how the intensity shifts, even if the awareness remains.

2. How often do you catch yourself editing your natural reactions or dampening your authentic responses in other relationships because of what happened with them? What would it feel like to gradually release this protective habit?

3. When memories surface, can you distinguish between missing the actual relationship and missing what you hoped it could become? How does this awareness change your perspective on the loss?

4. In what ways has your capacity to hold space for others - without expecting reciprocation - enriched other relationships in your life? How has this depth become a gift rather than a burden?

5. When was the last time you felt proud of your ability to care deeply, rather than apologetic for it? What changed between then and now in how you view your emotional depth?

6. How has the space they left become a room for your own growth? What new understandings about yourself have bloomed in the soil of their absence?

7. If you could tell your heart one thing about its capacity to remember and care, while still moving forward, what would that message be? How might this message guide your healing?

—When You Need This Most:

1. During those quiet evening moments when a memory surfaces unexpectedly - perhaps triggered by a song, a photo, or a familiar place - and the weight of unspoken words feels particularly heavy.

2. When you see them living their life through social media or mutual friends, seemingly unburdened by the connection you still honor, and you question whether your depth of feeling is a flaw.

3. In those vulnerable moments when you've just had a beautiful experience or achieved something meaningful, and your first instinct is still to share it with someone who's chosen not to be there.

4. On anniversaries or significant dates that only you remember - shared jokes, friendship milestones, or moments that shaped your connection - when the one-sided memory keeping feels especially poignant.

5. When you meet someone new who reminds you of them, and you find yourself hesitating to show your authentic depth, afraid of being "too much" again.

6. During life transitions or challenges when you naturally long for the safe harbor of their friendship, even though you know that harbor no longer exists.

7. On those nights when insomnia meets nostalgia, and your mind wanders through the gallery of "what-ifs" and unfinished conversations, seeking peace with what remains unsaid.

—Letters to Write:

1. "The Truth About Missing You"

   Write a raw, unfiltered letter expressing everything you wish they understood about how their absence has shaped you - not just what you miss, but how you've grown because of the missing. Focus particularly on the strengths you've discovered within yourself through this experience. (This letter stays with you; its power lies in the writing, not the sending.)

2. "Dear Future Me"

   Compose a letter to yourself one year from now, acknowledging where you are in this moment while envisioning how your heart will have transformed its relationship with this loss. Include specific hopes for how you'll have learned to hold both the memory and your forward momentum with grace.

3. "The Gift of Depth"

   Write a love letter to your own capacity for deep feeling and authentic connection. Address all the times you've seen this as a liability, and reframe them as evidence of your heart's remarkable strength. End with a promise to honor rather than apologize for your emotional depth.

4. "Words of Release"

   Create a letter that begins with "I release..." and list everything you're ready to let go of - expectations, regrets, unspoken words, hoped-for futures. Follow each release with an invitation for something new to take its place. ("I release the need for your approval, and I invite in unconditional self-acceptance.")

5. "Thank You for the Lessons"

   Draft a letter of gratitude - not to them, but to the experience itself. Acknowledge how this chapter of your story, including its ending, has shaped your understanding of friendship, authenticity, and self-worth. Focus on the wisdom you've gained rather than the connection you've lost.

—Permission Slips:

1. I hereby grant myself permission to remember without dwelling - to acknowledge the beauty of what was while accepting its ending. My memories don't need to be erased to prove I'm healing; they can simply become quieter stories that shaped me.

2. I give myself full permission to heal at my own pace, without rushing to match others' expectations of when I "should" be over it. My heart's timeline is valid, and its careful unfolding deserves respect.

3. I officially authorize myself to feel the full spectrum of emotions about this loss - from gratitude to grief, from anger to acceptance - sometimes all in the same day. My complex feelings reflect the depth of my capacity to connect, not a failure to move on.

4. I grant myself unconditional permission to stop apologizing for the space this experience takes up in my heart. I am allowed to honor its significance without minimizing its impact or pretending it matters less than it does.

5. I hereby free myself from the obligation to make my story palatable to others. Whether they understand or not, I have permission to own my truth without softening its edges or dimming its intensity.

6. I give myself complete permission to discover and embrace new connections without comparing them to what was lost. Each new relationship deserves its own clean page, free from the shadows of past chapters.

7. I authorize myself to be proud of my ability to care deeply, to remember fondly, and to keep moving forward - all at the same time. This complexity is not a contradiction; it's a testament to my emotional wisdom.

—Thank you for taking the time to read my letters.

If you love this letter, you’ll love my books. They are written for you, to warm your heart and soul. They are written for broken hearts of all shapes and sizes. They are full of good things—everything I have been wanting to say to you and they are available for FREE download to all tribe members.

If you were unable to find yourself in today's letter, you don't have to worry. Tell me what you feel here, and I will write you a personal letter. The same God who can help you get by in life can also help you excel in life.

—Who is Ali Papa?

I'm a husband, father, friend, and merchant of faith, hope, and love, crafting heartfelt letters for every season and story. Writing to you is more than a hobby for me. It's a passion, a calling, and a way of life. I pour my heart and soul into every letter I send you, hoping to inspire you, inform you, heal with compassion, illuminate paths, instill courage, uplift spirits, spread positivity, and connect with sincerity.

My wish is that you continue to find the words that express your deepest and strongest emotions from them, regardless of the circumstances, and that you keep experiencing life, love, freedom, and fulfilment in your relationship. I live in Port Harcourt with my supportive wife and three adorable kids, who teach me the value of love every day.