Hello, everyone. 👋 Today, I’d like to share something deeply personal with you— a project called “A Letter I Cannot Send.” ✉️
It’s a letter to my cousin, Heeya. She was like a sister to me, and still is. 💛 But she lives in North Korea. It’s been more than 20 years since I last saw her face. 🕰️
This letter is my way of sending my heart across a border I cannot cross. 🧠It’s the only way I can express my longing for someone I may never see again. 💔
As my YouTube channel grows 📺 and I connect with more people around the world 🌏, I’m reminded, more than ever, that there’s still one person I can’t reach. The person I want to reach the most. 🌙
So I’ve decided to share this letter— and more to come— with you, my subscribers and community. 💬🤍
A Letter I Cannot Send is not just my story. It’s a journey. 🚶‍♀️ And I’d be so grateful if you joined me on it. 🙏✨
Thank you so much for listening. đź’Ś ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A Letter I Cannot Send
Hi, Heeya. It’s me—your cousin, the one you were closest to. How have you been? I often wonder… if only you could somehow read this letter. It’s been over twenty years since I last saw your face. You must look so different now.
We used to argue so much when we were young, didn’t we? But now, the thought that we can’t even argue—can’t even meet—is more painful than I ever imagined. What brings me comfort, though, is that I live in a place where I can freely write down how much I miss you. That freedom—that's something truly precious.
You and I were separated when we were just children, unaware of what freedom even meant. Now, I’m raising two children in a place where I can speak, write, and live as I choose. And you, I imagine, are a mother too—but living a very different kind of life. Back then, we were just two girls growing up under the same system, shaped by the same stories, so our hearts understood each other. But now, I wonder—how much have our minds, our feelings, changed?
If we stood face to face again, what would that moment feel like? Would we recognize each other? What words would we say first?
Heeya, I think you’d be curious about life in South Korea, wouldn’t you? They say even in the North, people are catching on to the Korean Wave. Do you ever get to watch any South Korean dramas?
I hear about life up there through the news and through those who’ve come from the North… but you, I suppose, rarely hear anything about the South. Still, one day a strange thought came to me: What if… you were somehow able to read the words I write? That fragile hope has filled me with a quiet excitement.
So today, I decided to start writing letters to you— to tell you about my life, my world, the South as I know it. Wouldn’t that be something worth waiting for?
Of course, I sometimes daydream that you could write back to me, telling me your stories from the North. But I know that’s a dream, something too distant to grasp. Still, I hold onto this hope: that maybe, somehow, my words will find you.
I’m a writer, after all—so I believe I can tell you stories worth hearing. Maybe these letters will continue until the day we finally meet again. Or… maybe they’ll carry on until we meet in another world.
Either way, I want to leave behind something— something for your children and mine. So that if they ever meet, they won’t feel like strangers divided by a border. When I think about that, tears well up in my eyes.
But I’m grateful. Grateful that I can write, that I can share. So Heeya, I’ll keep writing to you about South Korea. Promise me you’ll listen with your heart—wherever you are.
Because this might just be the only letter like it in the whole world. That’s all for today. Goodbye for now, my dear Heeya.
Hanaya
A Letter I Cannot Send
Hello, everyone. đź‘‹
Today, I’d like to share something deeply personal with you—
a project called “A Letter I Cannot Send.” ✉️
It’s a letter to my cousin, Heeya.
She was like a sister to me, and still is. đź’›
But she lives in North Korea.
It’s been more than 20 years since I last saw her face. 🕰️
This letter is my way of sending my heart across a border I cannot cross. đź§
It’s the only way I can express my longing
for someone I may never see again. đź’”
As my YouTube channel grows đź“ş
and I connect with more people around the world 🌏,
I’m reminded, more than ever,
that there’s still one person I can’t reach.
The person I want to reach the most. 🌙
So I’ve decided to share this letter—
and more to come—
with you, my subscribers and community. 💬🤍
A Letter I Cannot Send is not just my story.
It’s a journey. 🚶‍♀️
And I’d be so grateful if you joined me on it. 🙏✨
Thank you so much for listening. đź’Ś
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A Letter I Cannot Send
Hi, Heeya.
It’s me—your cousin, the one you were closest to.
How have you been?
I often wonder… if only you could somehow read this letter.
It’s been over twenty years since I last saw your face.
You must look so different now.
We used to argue so much when we were young, didn’t we?
But now, the thought that we can’t even argue—can’t even meet—is more painful than I ever imagined.
What brings me comfort, though, is that I live in a place where I can freely write down how much I miss you.
That freedom—that's something truly precious.
You and I were separated when we were just children, unaware of what freedom even meant.
Now, I’m raising two children in a place where I can speak, write, and live as I choose.
And you, I imagine, are a mother too—but living a very different kind of life.
Back then, we were just two girls growing up under the same system, shaped by the same stories,
so our hearts understood each other.
But now, I wonder—how much have our minds, our feelings, changed?
If we stood face to face again, what would that moment feel like?
Would we recognize each other?
What words would we say first?
Heeya, I think you’d be curious about life in South Korea, wouldn’t you?
They say even in the North, people are catching on to the Korean Wave.
Do you ever get to watch any South Korean dramas?
I hear about life up there through the news and through those who’ve come from the North…
but you, I suppose, rarely hear anything about the South.
Still, one day a strange thought came to me:
What if… you were somehow able to read the words I write?
That fragile hope has filled me with a quiet excitement.
So today, I decided to start writing letters to you—
to tell you about my life, my world, the South as I know it.
Wouldn’t that be something worth waiting for?
Of course, I sometimes daydream that you could write back to me,
telling me your stories from the North.
But I know that’s a dream, something too distant to grasp.
Still, I hold onto this hope:
that maybe, somehow, my words will find you.
I’m a writer, after all—so I believe I can tell you stories worth hearing.
Maybe these letters will continue until the day we finally meet again.
Or… maybe they’ll carry on until we meet in another world.
Either way, I want to leave behind something—
something for your children and mine.
So that if they ever meet, they won’t feel like strangers divided by a border.
When I think about that, tears well up in my eyes.
But I’m grateful.
Grateful that I can write, that I can share.
So Heeya, I’ll keep writing to you about South Korea.
Promise me you’ll listen with your heart—wherever you are.
Because this might just be the only letter like it in the whole world.
That’s all for today.
Goodbye for now, my dear Heeya.
With love,
Your cousin
2 months ago | [YT] | 728