Email Number #1, 2:03am:
So I've found this email address you used to use, and let me tell you reading those absolutely cringe emails I sent makes me want to just die on the spot. Anyways, I thought it'd be a good way to let my feelings out if I email you here. You're never gonna read whatever gets sent here so it doesn't really matter anyway. Like who's gonna log into an email address from 2008. But maybe 2008 you would have loved me the way 2020 me loves you now...
-b
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Email Number #5, 12:56am:
Every night I pray for you not to sleep. To lay tireless, staring at your ceiling as I hope that the god's of sleep don't bless you. And every night I hope for you to find yourself crawling out of bed and walking down the darkened hallway to my bedroom. You push the door open slightly- you greet me with a softened smile. I sit up, rub my eyes and see your face gently illuminated by the light peering around the curtain- your hazy eyes looking down at mine. You don't say a word as you step past my door and shut it behind you. You lift yourself down into my bed and lie next to me, you mutter out these words in a sleepiest and softest voice you can do: "Can't sleep." I wrap an arm around your broad shoulders and pull you in closer to my chest.
Every night that doesn't happen. You sleep comfortably in your bed and never find your way into mine.
But maybe you're me. Maybe you're the one waiting for me to wander down our hallway and step into your bed. I'd hate to entertain that fact but it just seems so fucking unreasonable for you to want me in that way. You never have- never will. But fuck I wish you did. You always parade your lovers around me, always showing them to me. It's like your mocking my love, like your claims of loving them is a brag that says, "I love this person in a way I could never love you,"- and those words as though they are spitting at me.
But nothing pains my tired and aching heart more than knowing you could never love me in the same way I love you.
I reach out for your body, your hand, your soul, your heart, your anything but you're not there. You never are. And I want you so fucking much. I need you so fucking much. But every small glance, every small gesture or I don't fucking know every small anything fills me with the same naïve, futile hope. Hope that you could love me.
And you don't. Because of course, you don't.
I think I should sleep now, but fuck I'm angry. If only I was angry enough to tell you, just to fucking say something. But hey, I've never really been the angry type. Good night, I hope you're sleeping well right now because I won't be.
-b ---------------------
Email Number #7, 6:52am:
The sun is rising now. That beautiful orange light pouring through my slightly opened window, the still morning chill has always been so nice and accompanied by the sunrise has always been a perfect combination. I've always thought of you when the sun rises, it's so beautiful and warming- like you. The orange and warm sky has always mesmerised me.
But there are very rare times when I find myself either awake or filled with enough energy to actually watch the sunrise, but when I do it feels so perfect. Watching everything go from cold and dark to warm and a beautiful shade of orange. It sounds a little weird for me to be going on about the sun rising, right? But there are thoughts that you just keep for yourself for forever and some you write in an email to your best friend who you're hopelessly in love with.
