The words you never sent, and how to write them
I keep meeting people who have one message they never sent. So here is the whole method I use, given away, whole. No fee, no form. Write it.
It starts with the object, not the words.
Don't open with I miss you. Open with the one detail only that person would recognize. The chair. How they said your name when they were tired. You couldn't invent it. That detail is the proof you were there.
Write it as if they'll read it, not as a performance of not-sending. The words still have to be said.
Keep the tense honest. If it's over, write you were, not you are. Let it hurt.
Cut the apology for writing. No I know you won't read this. Unsent words don't need permission.
End on the smallest thing. Not I'll love you forever. You still can't hear one song all the way through.
Then stop. If the ending needs explaining, it isn't done.
One of mine:
You knew how I take my coffee. Now I stand in other kitchens asking. You said my name at the ends of sentences when you had nothing to add. Nobody knew, so I told them the version I wished were true. I'm tired of that version. I don't need you back. I need one morning where nothing has gone wrong yet. I'm sending this to no one. That was always the address.
That's the method. Free. If you want it written for you, my door is open. You don't need me for the first one.
I'm Michael. I write the words people never sent, out loud, in my own voice. If you want that done with you, [email protected]