A Letter I Wrote to You

Dear Friend,

Perhaps as you read these lines, you are also looking out your window like me. Or maybe you’re
sitting in a park watching the leaves on the trees. I don’t know who you are, but I’m writing because
I feel you somewhere. Because sometimes we find the deepest warmth in a heart whose name we don’t
even know.

Today, I walked on wet pavements after the rain. A child was laughing, their mother holding their
hand. A simit vendor was packing up his stall. A cat was asleep on the wheel of a car. Isn’t it strange?
These small moments are actually life itself. And I wanted to share these moments with you. Because
maybe one day you, too, will watch a sunset for someone whose name you don’t know. And in that
moment, we will have embraced each other’s loneliness.

You know, thinking of you comforts me. I imagine you: perhaps a student, perhaps a mother, or
maybe a traveler questioning life. But whoever you are, you are my silent friend. You don’t belong to me,
yet you carry a part of me.

Sometimes I hear a song and wonder, “I wonder if they’re listening to this, too?” Sometimes I read a book
and ask, “Would these lines touch them as well?” You are my invisible but true companion.

Maybe one day we’ll meet. We might sit side by side in a café, without speaking. But in that moment,
we’ll understand everything. Or maybe we’ll never meet at all. Yet I know you exist. And I trust that one day
the universe will deliver this letter I wrote for you.

Take good care of yourself, my unknown friend. Perhaps one day you’ll write to me, too. But it’s okay if you don’t.
Just knowing you exist is beautiful.

With warmest wishes.

Someone who thinks of you

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