When Did I Stop Saying Hi?

August Letters-02

18th August, 2026.

(P.S: This letter was written in August 2026 by a participant in our pen-pal project, addressed to their pen pal. We’re sharing it here with permission. August’s theme is A vulnerable letter to my younger self…)

Dear Stranger,

I speak to my 22-year-old self, lovely and about to graduate college. Equal parts intimidated, doubtful, freshly in love, curious, and open. Somehow, you knew, even then, that the moment you were living was special. You saw the magic as it unfolded, in real time. So I come here to say thank you, and maybe even take a few notes from your book. You were onto something.

That first week of college, you told yourself you’d say “hi” to everyone. It didn’t matter if you’d been properly introduced or if you didn’t know them at all, you’d acknowledge their presence with a simple “hi.” A small way of saying: I see you, here, around this time, often. Eventually, those hi’s became a ritual with the same familiar faces. When someone new would join you on your walk and watch you greet person after person, they’d say something like, “Wow, you know a lot of people” the first time in your life you’d ever heard that. You didn’t, really. You just said hi. Often. Thank you for saying hi.

Remember when the guy you liked asked you to that dinner on a Monday? You felt irresponsible, you had things due, you felt out of your routine, the dinner was out of the weekly budget. You went anyway. Thank you for showing up.

That same openness showed up again when a friend asked you to co-journal with him. You’d never really journaled for yourself, and the vulnerability of it intimidated you. You said yes anyway. Thank you for opening up.

Thank you for following your curiosity despite the inconvenience of it, for a disciplined, shy girl like you. Saying hi, showing up, opening up, that’s what made those years delicious.

I speak to you now at 28. And I catch myself walking a little faster. The hi’s are somehow harder to hold onto. My shoulders sit a little tighter. I reply less. I cancel more. All in the name of efficiency, practicality, responsibility. But when has practicality ever been romantic?

I’m starting to suspect that respecting joy isn’t optional, it’s necessary. There’s no other way to live, not really. It’s what adds color and texture to the everyday, and we need that to survive.

So: allow yourself the joy of following your inclinations without always calculating whether they make sense, whether they’re convenient. That convenience will imprison you, if you let it.

Respect your joy. Nourish it. Because that’s where you’ll actually meet yourself.

With Love,
Anonymous

This letter was written as part of our global pen-pal exchange —“With Love, Anonymous.”

Each month, hundreds of readers around the world write and receive letters on life, love, and becoming.

✉️ Want to write one too? Join the next round through our Linktree below:

Join Us