An Open Letter

Earlier today at the gym I was listening to Sabrina Carpenter after looping one of her songs (read your mind) for multiple months now. One album by her was called emails I can’t send or something like that, and I originally misread it as emails I can’t read. I thought that was a fairly interesting change on the trope, of instead it being something about the other person’s point of view. Knowing that there were things unsaid to you that you can never really hear, I wonder how that changes the perspective on things. In my eyes it kinda feels like a weird level of guilt, knowing you’ve done something bad enough to warrant someone needing to avoid communicating with you so badly, and I feel like you really want that closure and that information. But also what do I know, I’m barely lucid it’s late at night.