> ## Content Index > Fetch the complete content index at: https://www.comesitwithmemag.co.uk/llms.txt > Use this file to discover other available public pages before exploring further. # THE UNSAID - URL: https://www.comesitwithmemag.co.uk/the-unsaid/ - Published: 2026-11-08T16:15:17.000Z - Updated: 2026-11-08T16:15:17.000Z - Description: Some thoughts never make it into conversation. From guilt and jealousy to love, exhaustion and the things we struggle to admit, these personal and illustrative confessions make room for what usually stays hidden. - Author: Oluwakanyinsola Opadele - Tags: Issue001 Things we think but don’t always say. Some thoughts never make it into conversation. Not because they’re particularly dangerous, or even unusual. Sometimes we simply don’t know how to say them without changing the way somebody sees us. Sometimes we don’t say them because we haven’t even admitted them to ourselves. So, for a moment, let’s leave the explanations at the door. These are personal and illustrative confessions from the editor, written to introduce this space. They are not reader submissions. **01\. I don’t actually miss them.** I think I miss having someone to tell everything to. The random updates, the stupid jokes, the person who knew what I meant without needing the full explanation. Sometimes I wonder whether I miss the person or just having a place to put all my feelings. And honestly, I don’t think it’s the person. **02\. I’m jealous of people who seem to know what they’re doing.** I celebrate my friends. I really do. But sometimes I go home, look at what everyone else is achieving and wonder whether I’m secretly falling behind. I know life isn’t a race. I just wish my brain would stop checking the leaderboard. **03\. Sometimes I want to be a bad person for five minutes.** Not actually hurt anybody. Just stop being the understanding one. Stop considering every possible explanation for somebody else’s behaviour. Stop being the bigger person. Stop making room for people who rarely make room for me. I want to say, “That was rubbish, and I don’t care why you did it.” Then go and enjoy my evening. **04\. I think I’ve outgrown some people, and I feel guilty about it.** There are people I genuinely wish well, but I don’t want them close to me anymore. Nothing dramatic happened. No big argument. No betrayal. I just don’t feel like the same person around them. And somehow that feels like a crime. **05\. I am tired of pretending I don’t care.** I care when I’m excluded. I care when someone forgets me. I care when I put effort into something and nobody notices. I know I’m supposed to be secure enough not to need external validation. But being self-aware doesn’t magically make you immune to wanting to matter. **06\. I don’t always want advice. Sometimes I want someone to sit with me.** I know what I need to do. I’ve probably already thought about it seventeen different ways. I don’t need another motivational speech or a list of five things I should change. Sometimes I just want to tell someone that something hurt without having to turn the pain into a lesson immediately. **07\. I don’t think I love them anymore. I just don’t know how to leave.** And that’s a difficult thing to admit. Because what do you do when the feelings aren’t really there anymore, but the gratitude is? When you remember the times they showed up for you. The moments they listened, stayed, helped, or simply existed beside you when they didn’t have to. How do you walk away from somebody who was once there when you needed them? I sometimes wonder whether I’m holding on because I want them, or because I feel I owe them something. As though the kindness they once showed me has become a debt I have to keep repaying with my presence. But surely being grateful to someone doesn’t mean I have to remain in their life forever. Does it? **08\. Sometimes I pray like someone’s life depends on whether I remember their name.** I don’t know how to explain this without sounding strange. Sometimes when I’m praying, I feel like I have to mention everybody. Every person I love, every person I know, every person who has ever mattered to me. And if I forget somebody, I get frightened. What if something happens to them? What if I should have mentioned their name? What if I forget someone and something terrible happens because I didn’t remember to pray for them? So I go through the names again. And again. Sometimes prayer starts feeling less like a conversation and more like a list I’m terrified of getting wrong. I know forgetting someone’s name doesn’t mean I have forgotten them in my heart. I know I cannot possibly hold every person in the world together through the words I say. But the fear still visits. And sometimes I wish someone would tell me that I don’t have to carry everybody like that. **09\. Pouring into someone who doesn’t want to be poured into can leave you bleeding.** I don’t think people talk enough about how exhausting it is to keep giving to someone who has no intention of receiving you properly. You listen. You encourage. You check in. You make space. You remember the little things. You try to understand what they aren’t saying. You keep pouring, hoping that eventually something will reach them. But what happens when the person you’re pouring into doesn’t actually want to be poured into? At some point, it starts feeling like a vampire is attached to you. Not because they’re necessarily evil, but because you keep giving away pieces of yourself and somehow end up with less and less to give. You leave the conversation drained. You leave the relationship questioning yourself. You start wondering why caring feels so much like bleeding. And the worst part? Sometimes you don’t even realize how empty you’ve become until somebody asks you how you’re doing, and you have absolutely nothing left to say. **A little note before you leave:** Perhaps the things we keep quiet aren’t always the things we’re most ashamed of. Sometimes they’re the things we don’t know how to explain. The feelings that contradict each other. The thoughts that make us question ourselves. The experiences we have never quite found the courage to put into words. I don’t want this to be a space where everybody arrives pretending to have figured life out. I want it to be somewhere we can admit that we don’t. Somewhere you can talk about the person you cannot quite leave, the resentment you feel guilty for having, the prayers you are afraid to finish, or the exhaustion of being the person who always pours. You don’t have to make your feelings sound pretty here. You don’t have to arrive with a conclusion. And you certainly don’t have to pretend you’re the only person who has ever felt this way. This is an open space. Perhaps someone else has been carrying the same thought, quietly, for years. Come sit with me. You don’t have to pretend here.