An unsent letter is a letter you write to someone, knowing you will never send it. Here is how to write an unsent letter: choose one person, write to them as honestly as you can, say what you never got to say, then decide privately whether to keep it, tear it up or answer it yourself.
An unsent letter looks like any other letter. It has a greeting, a middle and a sign-off. The difference is that it never goes in the mail. Because no one else will read it, you can be messy, angry, tender or unfair. You don't have to persuade anyone or protect anyone's feelings. The goal is to move the words out of your head and onto the page, where you can see them.
For closure. A relationship, friendship or job ended without a real goodbye.
For anger. You need to say the furious version somewhere it can't do any damage.
For grief. Someone died, and there are things you wish you had told them.
For someone you can't contact. An estranged relative, a friend you lost touch with, or someone it isn't safe or wise to reach out to.
For an apology or thanks. You want to find the right words before deciding whether to say anything out loud.
For yourself. Some unsent letters go to an earlier version of you. Here's a guide to writing a letter to your younger self.
We haven't found studies that test unsent letters on their own, so here is the honest version. The closest research is on expressive writing, where people write freely about a painful experience. The Greater Good Science Center at UC Berkeley describes a version that takes 20 minutes a day for four days in a row.
In a 1988 study by James Pennebaker and colleagues, people who wrote about traumatic experiences for four days reported greater happiness three months later than people who wrote about superficial topics. They also visited the doctor less than usual in the six weeks that followed. Greater Good suggests one reason: turning a messy, complicated experience into a coherent story can make it feel more manageable.
It doesn't help everyone. Greater Good notes that some studies found no change, and that for some groups the practice brought up difficult feelings such as anxiety and sadness. Its advice is to pick something you feel you can handle now, and not to write about a severe trauma too soon after it happened.
Pick one person and one topic. "Everything about my dad" is too big. "The day you didn't come to my graduation" gives you somewhere to start.
Find time and privacy. A quiet 15 to 20 minutes where you won't be interrupted is plenty.
Open with their name. Use what you actually called them: "Dear Mom," "Sam," or just "Hey."
Write without editing. Don't fix spelling or grammar. Greater Good's expressive writing practice reminds you that the writing is for your eyes only.
Say the hard part plainly. "You hurt me when..." "I miss..." "I'm sorry that..." Short, direct sentences are often the most honest.
Say what you needed. Write it down even if they could never have given it to you.
End on purpose. A goodbye, a wish for them, a wish for you, or simply "That's all for today."
Pause before you decide what's next. Notice how you feel. If you're shaken, take a break, drink some water or step outside for a minute.
Use one or two of these as a first line, then keep going in your own words.
What I never got to say to you is...
The moment I knew it was over was...
Even now, I want to thank you for...
What I'm taking with me, and what I'm leaving with you, is...
What you did, in plain words, was...
What it cost me was...
What I wanted you to do instead was...
What I'm done carrying is...
What I wish I'd told you is...
The ordinary thing I miss most is...
Since you've been gone, this has happened...
What I hope you knew is...
What I'd want you to know about my life now is...
The question I still want to ask you is...
What I've forgiven, and what I haven't yet, is...
Keep it private. Seal it in an envelope, lock it in a drawer or keep it in a locked note. Write the date on it.
Tear it up or delete it. Some people like a physical ending. Ripping up the pages can feel like putting the subject down for now.
Reread it later. In a week or a month, you may notice what has changed and what hasn't.
Write a reply to yourself. Answer your own letter with what you needed to hear. Greater Good's Self-Compassionate Letter practice suggests imagining someone who loves and accepts you unconditionally, and writing what that person would say.
Try another point of view. Greater Good's expressive writing practice offers an optional last step: write about the same situation from the perspective of a neutral observer or the other people involved.
Don't send it as it is. If something truly needs to be said, use the letter as a rough draft for a calmer, shorter conversation later.
If writing brings up feelings that feel overwhelming, it's okay to stop. Consider talking with a doctor or a mental health professional. If you're in the US and in crisis or emotional distress, you can call or text 988, or chat at 988lifeline.org, to reach the 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline. It's free, confidential and available 24/7. For more gentle writing ideas, try these journal prompts for stress.
Usually not as it is, because it was written to be unfiltered. If you still want to reach out after a few days, write a new, shorter message about what matters most.
Many people find it a relief. Research on expressive writing suggests benefits for some people, but not for everyone, and it can stir up hard feelings at first.
Yes. Many people write to a loved one who died, to tell them what has happened, what they miss and what they never got to say.
As long as it needs to be. A few honest lines count. Greater Good's expressive writing practice suggests writing for about 20 minutes if you want a guide.
Dear You: Daily Letters is made for writing to yourself rather than to other people, so it suits the reply-to-yourself step more than the letter itself. Private write-back replies and a searchable private library keep that writing in one place, and app lock with Face ID, Touch ID or a passcode keeps it private. It needs no account, has no ads, notifications never show your words, and your letters and notes stay on your iPhone.
Get Dear You free on the App Store