I write emails that I never send.
Sometimes when I'm over-emotional, insanely hurt and angry or just need to get things off my chest, I write an email to whoever might be involved in that particular scenario.
In my many different email accounts, I have draft upon draft of saved, unsent messages.
There are some to boyfriends, exes, old friends... even one to the father of an ex when I was worried that his son was drinking himself to death after our breakup. I was right to worry. Wonder what would've happened if I sent that one.
I keep them to myself for many reasons. It's tough to realize that you can't save people from themselves, or keep them from hurting you. They don't want your help. I doubt I'll ever learn when to turn my back on those who meant something to me, no matter how much they may have put me through. In hindsight, I'm quite naive in that respect; some of these people no longer matter to me in the slightest.
Maybe there's a saved email addressed to you.
Maybe you'll never know how I really feel, or how your actions affected me. How I cried until I couldn't see the words I was typing, or smiled while writing sweet words I would never send.
Maybe it really doesn't matter.
Reading them now often makes me sad. Even the happier ones. Pointless to wonder how they would've been received, and much too late to find out.
So they sit.
And they wait for me to read and remember what you'll never, ever know.