Dear Komugisa, I Miss Someone Who Doesn't Miss Me

The letters shared here are inspired by real stories. Names and identifying details have been changed to protect privacy. If you'd like to share your own story anonymously, I'd be honored to read it.

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A Letter from a Reader

Dear Komugisa,

I don't know why I'm writing this because I already know what people will say.

"They've moved on."

"You deserve better."

"Just let go."

I've heard it all.

The problem is, knowing what I should do doesn't make my heart listen.

It's been eight months since we stopped talking. There wasn't a big fight. No dramatic goodbye. We just slowly became strangers. One less phone call. One unanswered message. One cancelled plan after another. Until one day, there was simply... silence.

And somehow, the silence hurts more than an argument ever could.

I still catch myself reaching for my phone whenever something funny happens because he's the first person I want to tell. I still see things that remind me of him. Some songs still make my chest ache. I still wonder how his day was, even though I'm no longer part of it.

The hardest part is not knowing if he misses me too.

Did I matter as much as he mattered to me?

Or was I just someone he outgrew?

I've tried distracting myself. I've stayed busy. I've prayed. I've told myself I'm over it.

But then a memory appears out of nowhere, and suddenly it feels like I'm grieving all over again.

I'm tired of carrying someone who isn't carrying me anymore.

How do you stop missing someone who was once part of your everyday life?

— R.M

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Dear R.M,

A few months ago, I cleaned out an old drawer I'd been avoiding for years.

At the very back was a handwritten note from someone who had once meant a great deal to me.

For a moment, time folded in on itself.

I wasn't in my room anymore.

I was back in the season when that note was written—remembering conversations, laughter, hopes, and all the things I thought would last forever.

Isn't it strange how memories work?

They can make yesterday feel like it happened five minutes ago.

Sometimes we think we've healed, only for a familiar scent, a song, or an old photo to remind us that healing isn't always a straight line.

So first, let me tell you this:

There is nothing wrong with you because you still miss someone.

Missing someone isn't a sign that you're weak.

It's often a sign that you loved sincerely.

The people who leave footprints on our hearts don't disappear simply because the calendar says enough time has passed.

But there is something important I've learned.

Missing someone and needing them are not the same thing.

You can cherish what was without believing it must return.

You can be grateful for a chapter without trying to reopen the book.

You asked whether you mattered to them.

I wish I could answer that for you.

But sometimes we spend years searching for answers that only the other person could give and even then, their answer may never satisfy our hearts.

Instead of asking, "Did I matter enough for them to stay?"

Maybe ask, "What did this relationship teach me about love, about myself, and about what I need going forward?"

I also noticed something beautiful hidden in your letter.

You said you still reach for your phone to tell them about your day.

That tells me you have a heart that longs to share life.

Please don't let heartbreak convince you to close that heart forever.

One day, someone else may become the person you can't wait to tell about the little things.

Not because they'll replace the past.

But because life has a gentle way of making room for new chapters.

As Christians, we often ask God to remove the pain immediately.

Sometimes He does.

Other times, He walks with us through it until one day we realize the ache no longer controls us.

Psalm 34:18 says, "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit."

Notice it doesn't say God stays close only after we're healed.

He comes near while our hearts are still breaking.

So if today you miss them, don't be ashamed of your tears.

Just don't build your home in yesterday.

Visit the memories if you need to.

Smile at the good ones.

Cry over the painful ones.

Then gently come back to today.

Because your life is still unfolding here.

And there is still so much love ahead of you that you cannot see yet.

I'm praying that, with time, the memories that make you cry today will one day make you smile not because they came back, but because you discovered that your heart was capable of healing all along.

With love,

Komugisa