I've had thousands of conversations that never left my head.
Some of them are with people I've never even spoken to. Others are with people I love. Some are with people I hate. And the worst ones those are with people I miss but can't talk to anymore.
They all live up there, walking around in my mind like ghosts.
Like that one time I imagined finally telling my mom how much it hurt when she dismissed my anxiety as "just a phase." In my head, I say it clearly. Calmly. She listens. She finally gets it. She finally sees me. But in real life? I just nodded and stayed quiet, like always.
Or that fight with my best friend I never had the guts to bring up. I've played it out in my head a hundred times. What I'd say. How I'd explain that he made me feel invisible when he started hanging out with new people and stopped texting back. But I never said a word. Because starting that kind of conversation means possibly ending the friendship.
And maybe I'm not ready for that.
Then there's her.
I've had full conversations with her. The kind where I tell her how much I noticed like how she tucks her hair behind her ear when she's nervous or how her smile isn't always real, but still beautiful. I tell her everything. In my mind, she smiles back. She laughs at the right parts. She maybe even says she feels the same.
But in reality, I just watch her from a few seats away and pretend I'm too focused on my notes.
It's always easier in my head.
There, I'm confident. I don't stumble. I don't overthink. I just speak like I've always known what to say.
But the real world doesn't come with scripts.
It comes with awkward silences. And people walking away. And the fear of messing everything up.
So I keep most conversations inside.
And sometimes, that's lonelier than silence.
Because silence at least feels empty.
But these imagined talks?
They feel like full meals I'll never get to taste.
And it hurts, knowing that the most honest versions of myself only exist in the corners of my mind.
One day, maybe I'll find the courage to say those things out loud.
But today isn't that day.
Today is another chapter of conversations that never happened.