Are you out there?
I hope so. Because I’m writing this for the person who feels too much. For the one who overthinks, overworries, and overloves. For the one who lies awake at night wondering what all this is — life, love, loss, kindness, meaning.
Maybe you’ve asked these questions too:
Why do I feel so much for strangers, but not always for my own family? Why do I care if someone I barely know is about to cry? Why do I give my money, my trust, my soul — even when it ends in betrayal? Why do I still love someone who has moved on? Why do I want to protect people from pain, even when no one asked me to?
Am I stupid? Am I broken? Am I alone?
You’re not. You’re like me.
I once gave someone Rs.700 because I thought they needed help. They lied. They took the money and disappeared. My closest friend called me stupid.
But even now, I’d do it again. Because what if he really needed it?
I’d rather be lied to than shut my heart.
Sometimes I feel like a child still — wanting to believe in good things, in kind people, in soft love. I try to protect that inner child. He’s still here inside me. He believes too quickly. Loves too much. Hurts too easily.
I love my friends. My co-workers. I’d give to them easily if I thought they were in need. Sometimes I feel like my heart is too big and too open, and the world is just too sharp for it.
And I wonder — why is this world so crooked?
Why does it mock softness? Why do people lie, cheat, steal trust?
And worse — why do I still care?
I imagine people like me existed hundreds of years ago. Dreamers. Protectors. Gentle hearts. All of them dust now. Forgotten.
What am I doing here? What is this life?
We all die. I will too. And everything I ever felt or created might disappear. Just like that.
But still… I want to love. I want to help. I want to hold someone’s pain and say, “You’re not alone.”
I want to find someone like me. Someone with a soul like a quiet river. Someone who sees people about to break and wants to hold them together. But I’m scared too. I fear being cheated on. Lied to. Used.
And yet…
I don’t want to become cold. I don’t want to stop caring.
I think that’s why I’m writing this.
So that maybe, one day, someone like me will find this letter. In the middle of the night. In the middle of the storm. And read these words and whisper:
“Thank god. I’m not the only one.”
With all my heart, A fellow tender soul