25 [M4F] Hyderabad/India - I've been writing to someone I haven't met yet. maybe it's you.

There's a notebook on my desk that's almost full. not with work stuff. with verses. half finished thoughts. lines that came to me at 3am when I should've been sleeping but couldn't because something inside me needed to be said. and the strange part is, a lot of it is addressed to someone. someone I haven't met. someone I've been writing to without knowing her name, her face, or the sound of her voice. just the feeling of her. the idea that somewhere out there, someone exists who would read what I write and not think it's too much but think it's finally enough.

If that sounds intense, it is. I won't pretend otherwise. but stay with me for a minute.

I'm 25. I live in Hyderabad. I work in finance, which means my days are structured, predictable, and honestly kind of boring on the surface. but underneath that, my mind is a completely different place. I'll be sitting in a meeting thinking about why humans build walls around the parts of themselves they most want someone to see. I'll leave work and immediately fall into a two hour rabbit hole about a geopolitical conflict I knew nothing about that morning. I'll watch a cricket match and feel genuine heartbreak over a middle order collapse like it happened to me personally. I'll catch an F1 qualifying session and spend the rest of the night thinking about the split second decisions that separate winning from losing, and then somehow connect that to how we make choices in love and life. my brain does this constantly. it connects everything to everything. it never stops. it's exhausting and beautiful and I wouldn't trade it for anything.

And then at night, when everything is quiet and the world slows down, I write. not because I'm trying to be a writer. but because feeling things this deeply without an outlet would break me. poetry is where I put the things I can't say in normal conversation. the loneliness that doesn't look like loneliness because I'm smiling. the longing for a connection that goes beyond "how was your day" "good, yours." the ache of wanting to be truly known by someone and wondering if that's even possible anymore in a world that moves this fast.

Here's what I imagine when I think about the person I'm looking for.

She's the kind of person who has an entire universe inside her that she doesn't show most people. not because she's closed off, but because most people never asked the right questions to find it. she feels things deeply but has learned to keep it quiet because the world told her it was too much. she's been the listener in every friendship, the one everyone comes to, but rarely the one someone comes *for*. she wants someone who notices when her "I'm okay" has a different weight to it. someone who doesn't just read her words but reads between them.

She doesn't need to love cricket. She doesn't need to understand what an undercut strategy in F1 means. She doesn't need to have opinions about NATO or the shifting balance of global power. but she needs to be passionate about *something*. something that lights her up from the inside when she talks about it. because I want to watch that happen. I want to be the person she sends a voice note to at 11pm saying "okay so listen to this" about something she's excited about. and I want her to be the person I nervously send a poem to at midnight, waiting to see which line she felt the most.

I want the kind of connection that doesn't have a label because no label would do it justice. where we talk every single day and it never once feels like a chore. where the conversation moves from something stupid and funny to something painfully real and neither of us flinches. where she tells me about her day and I actually remember every detail three weeks later. where I write something and she knows it's about her without me having to say it. where "goodnight" gets said four times before either of us actually means it.

I'm not looking for someone to complete me. I'm not broken. I'm not desperate. I'm just a guy who has a lot of love and depth and intensity and nowhere to put it all. and I'd rather pour it into one real connection than scatter it across a hundred shallow ones.

So if you've read all of this and you're still here, I think that says something about you already. most people would've scrolled past by the second paragraph. you didn't. and that makes me curious about you.

Here's your opening line if you want one. tell me about a moment recently where you felt something so strongly that you wished you had someone specific to tell. not your friends, not your family. just that *one person* who would've understood exactly why it mattered. describe that moment to me. and I'll tell you mine.

and if I'm lucky, maybe the next poem I write won't be addressed to someone I haven't met anymore.