When most emerging artists release their first project, the focus is usually numbers—streams, shares, charts, and virality. But Nia Perez is taking a different approach. With her debut EP, Things I Wish I Said, she has created something larger than a record: a shared emotional space for listeners who know the discomfort of unspoken feelings. That philosophy extends beyond her music and into her digital presence, where she has built a community rooted in introspection rather than performance.
Perez’s music reflects her journey from Venezuela—where she was born and raised—to a creative identity that blends indie pop with the confessional tone of bedroom songwriting. Her songs are tender but precise, weaving emotional detail into clean, understated production. She writes not like someone trying to impress, but like someone trying to finally say everything she once kept inside. That honesty is becoming her signature.
What sets Perez apart is not only the content of her music but the ecosystem she has created around it. On her website, she hosts a space where anyone can submit their own unsent letters—private, anonymous, and unseen by her. It is a quiet act of solidarity: you send something into the void, knowing someone somewhere understands. In a digital landscape flooded with shout-outs and self-branding, Perez has chosen to build something softer and more human.
The letters are not a marketing gimmick; they are an extension of the emotional world of her EP. Each track represents a chapter in a personal reckoning: identity loss in “Shapeshifting,” painful replacement in “Not Her,” psychological unraveling in “Cognitive Dissonance,” and the long-coming release in “Little Old Flame.” The EP unfolds like an emotional timeline, tracing not just what happened, but how it felt from the inside.
“If you had asked me two years ago to share these personal letters with the world, I would have run the other way,” Nia shares. “But writing these songs has helped me finally say things I kept inside for too long. We’ve all got those unsent letters; maybe hearing mine will help others send theirs.”
Her presence on social media further bridges the gap between art and audience. On TikTok and Instagram, she does not speak at listeners—she speaks with them, often sharing moments of uncertainty, growth, and artistic process. The engagement she receives is not passive fandom but active resonance. Her followers come not only for the music, but for the conversations the music makes possible. For a new artist, that is a rare and valuable foundation.
With more than 20,000 Spotify listeners and over 50,000 YouTube streams, Perez is clearly gaining traction, but what matters more is the emotional momentum she’s cultivating. Things I Wish I Said is not just the start of a career—it is the beginning of a relationship between artist and audience defined by honesty, introspection, and emotional literacy. If this is how Perez is starting, then the chapters ahead are likely to be even more powerful, not because she will sing louder, but because she will continue saying the things so many people never do.
