Desires Left Unspoken

People do not state what they really desire out of life. They gesture toward it and dress it up as something easier to say out loud. Things like clarity, peace, or happiness. These are concepts that sound respectable, but do not invite too many questions. They are things that do not risk any real vulnerability.

I have done this more than I would like to admit. I still do it. Every single day. I ask for things that do not matter to my heart. Even in prayer I keep it vague. I avoid the words that would force me to be honest.

It isn’t that I do not know what it is that I desire. Trust me, I do. It has weight to it. I think about it before sleep and as soon as I wake up. But I do not say it out loud. I do not ask for it, because once it is named it becomes real and it can be dismissed.

It is easier to exist in the space between knowing and asking. Knowing feels safe, asking feels final. Knowing feels like intimacy with oneself. Asking threatens that intimacy by demanding proof, outcomes, consequences. If I do not name it, I can still believe that it is possible. But if I ask and do not get it, then I must live with that reality.

So I keep my desires hidden. I act as if I have let it go. I talk about other things and pursue different goals, choosing something that sounds impressive but does not expose anything personal. I claim that I have accepted life as it is and that I have matured beyond that need. But this is a lie.

This isn’t maturity. It is a quiet avoidance. I see it in other people, too. They build structured lives around the thing they are not willing to name. They achieve success in areas that do not touch the wound in their hearts. They stay in constant motion so as not to confront the emptiness of wanting something they might never get. These compensatory achievements mask our unaddressed desires and shape our entire life trajectories.

There is shame in unfulfilled desires. It feels personal. Like a failure. So we filter them out and pretend we are fine. We pursue things that are easy to live without. Because naming them makes them both more real and more vulnerable to loss.

I have told myself many versions of the same story: that I have moved on, that the timing was not right, that perhaps it was not meant for me. None of these stories are true. These aren't lies in the malicious sense. I just use them to dull the pain of unmet desires.

The truth is that I still want it. I have wanted it my whole life. I have become a master at avoiding the subject, while building a life that functions well around the absence of that desire. I keep everything else running so that I do not have to confront the part of me that remains unfinished. I am someone who knows the cost but still isn’t ready to pay it.

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to say it plainly. To stop dodging the truth and simply state, "This is what I want out of life," without feeling embarrassed. But even that thought makes me tense, not because it is wrong to want, but because I do not know what I would do if nothing changed afterward.

My fear is not only that I might not get it, but that I would remain the same person even after admitting it. I would have to continue living with that knowledge openly. Speaking truth is not inherently liberating. It just strips away the protection of illusion.

So it’s easier to remain quiet, to stay vague, and to choose safety. I dress my lack in terms like fate. But really it’s just the fear of desiring something and not getting it.

There is no neat ending to this post. There is no breakthrough or revelation. I have not said the thing I want out loud, and I won’t. I wrote this to be intentionally vague. I continue to protect it. I continue to circle it without ever reaching for it.

I have kept it close enough to feel but far enough away to avoid.

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