What do you do with over 450 emails from someone you no longer speak to?
I tried deleting them, exorcising my conscious by removing the evidence.
But I couldn't.
I scrolled through page after page of subjects, the dates, the lengths. I was very selfish with you--always wanting more than you gave, always wanting to give more than I gave. (You've always said I have unrealistic expectations of the people in my life).
I know you no longer read these entries. I also know that you deleted the emails I sent you long ago.
But the irreversible deletion of these emails would crush me, I think.
It's not that I believe that what we once had together could be recreated. It's not that I think that what I did was forgivable. It's not that I think that it would be a good thing if we were a part of one another's lives again, because I don't think that's possible, yet, if ever.
It's just that those words that passed between us became as much a part of me as, well, you.
So, over 450 emails just sit there, in this specific email account, waiting, suspended for something more like someone's journal buried in a backyard time capsule. They hold so much hope and passion and intelligence. And pain, torrents of it swirled with anger and frustration.
We were never perfect, but I think you knew that, too.