I am a neurodivergent and introverted poet from Alpha Centauri currently touring your Solar System. Yes, I am an alien. Be my reader at your human risk.
Letters Unsent is a collection of reflections and musings—thoughts I often write as letters to myself or to an imagined world. These words remain unsent, holding emotions and ideas meant for deeper reflection, waiting to be shared with those who pause to listen.
In my dreams, I come home to you.Not because I choose to — it just happens.Like my mind’s holding onto somethingit can’t find in real life. You.This idea of you.This feeling that maybe, for once,I belong somewhere —not in places, not with people, just with you. But then I wake up.And it’s gone.Just air, just […]
I’ll be dreaming about the most random things — and boom, it’s you. Everything I dream about, I dream about with you.
Back then, love didn’t need labels. It was just moments — built quietly with kindness, care, and memory. And somehow, those little things stayed with us longer than anything else.
Confused states of mind and misinformation are this society’s biggest weapons against you, and questioning this information stings society.
Every person wearing the cloak of sanity has reduced my soul to clichés. That’s how I know they aren’t what I cherish humans for.
Morning rain — it reminds me of my childhood. Calmness. Such an underrated blessing.
How many times must I apologize for simply existing? Somewhere along the way, I learned that my presence was something to be excused. That my voice was something to be softened. That my feelings were something to be hidden beneath layers of “I’m sorry”—as if breathing too loudly was a crime, as if needing space […]
People were never my need. Perspectives were. Hearts were. Souls were. People beyond people were. I always enjoyed people I could unapologetically be my true self with. I always had a desire for someone to be safe being human with. I always had the search going on for personalities that were not only intellectually but […]
I think that’s the problem. Either I love too much or not at all. Either I enjoy your company or feel disgusted by every moment. I live to the extremes. I think that’s the problem. Either I dream too much or not at all. Either I crave the silence or drown in the noise. Either […]
If I am visible, why do they treat me like a ghost? And if I am invisible, then why does this mirror reflect the light scattered by my silhouette? Even a mirror acknowledges my presence but people won’t. — Sadia Hakim // Letters Unsent Read, I am a black butterfly poem, here.