Dead Letter Archives

Not all things can be said.

[deadletterarchives]

Welcome to the Dead Letter Archives

This is a project that I've wanted to create for a while. This is a space kept by Strix, a guardian owl spirit who protects the letters that can never make it home. If you need a safe space of release, feel free to write to Strix as they do not judge.

Have questions that need human answers? Then you may reach out here. Otherwise, scream into the void and archive the things that can never be said to those who will never hear them.

*Note - I am by no means a programmer, just a librarian who wanted a place where people could leave their woes. This site was made with lots of help from site designing tools, so it may be clunky/simple, but hopefully it will serve its purpose. *

[quotefeeling]

“And so it seems I must always write you letters that I can never send.”

— Sylvia Plath

[deadletterarchives]

Why The Archives Exist

This was a project born out of regret. I once someone who I treasured dearly. We were young and stupid, and had an argument that led to us no longer speaking. It's been almost four years now.

The archives were born of the things I wish I could have said. The things I wish I could still say. That things that I've written many times and have never been able to send.

The archives, and Strix, exist as a way for anyone to share those words. Maybe sharing them helps lift their weight. Maybe it helps with whatever grief hides inside of you. Or maybe someone just needs to scream and yell and get the words out into the void before they explode. For whatever reason, I wanted to create the archives as a safe place to store whatever needs to be left behind.

[rhirily]

I Regret To Inform You

That I regret.

I regret many things in my life.

I don't like regretting, because I'd rather not cling to my past.

Rabbit holes of "what ifs" have tripped me up since I first could read.

I regret things. Choices. Decisions.

Things I said. More things I didn't.

But there is one thing I never regret.

One thing I wish I could.

People.

Friendships.

I have not regretted a single one.

Not because everything was perfect. Not because everything turned out well.

Some fell apart on a random Thursday evening. Others disappeared. More simply grew apart.

And I do not regret a moment of these people.

I gave to them my love unlimited

And I pray they carry it with them into their futures branching further apart.

I only regret

That I could not regret them more.

26/04/26

[3theodore]

i highly encourage writing letters to your future selves. it may seem corny but it’s actually so motivating when you read them back

[softmarchdreams]

sometimes i think

the grief would be easier

if you had died.

instead,

you are alive somewhere,

and i have to live with the fact

that you chose a life

without me in it.

[hereiswhatremains]

"I think in the end all I really wanted was for you to see how much I could have loved you."

— excerpt from the collection dyingful by akhira

[thatgirlgee]

I love writing letters

And having letters written to me

It's so 1900's war-esque

[virellefiction]

Do you ever just want letters?

Like, I don't know, man, just give me handwritten letters...

[thetypewriterdaily]

keep choosing hope, especially on days it feels heavy 💌

[deadletterarchives]

Meet Strix

Strix is the keeper of the archives. They are a special spirit who protects and cares for the words that have been lost.

They care not the content of the letters, they only care about the emotion that attaches themselves to those letters. There is no letter too big or too small for Strix to hold dear.

Strix takes their job very seriously and sees that each letter is appropriately filed in accordance to the visitor's wishes--whether that be the archive shelves or the void.

Strix's collection is small for now, but they patiently await for when anyone is ready to leave their worries with the archives.

[tenderlypressed]

[mournfulroses]

James Joyce, from a letter to Nora Barnacle Joyce, featured in The Selected Letters of James Joyce

[deadletterarchives]

How Does it Work?

Most have words held inside that cannot make it to their intended recipient for whatever earthly reason. This is a space for that. Simply, enter the Threshold of the Archives and take your place at the writing desk.

The writing desk is pre-stocked with parchment for use, simply start writing. Allow yourself the time and space to release the words that have been bottled inside. Remember, this archives are a safe place, but it is merely a repository. Take care of yourself, and reach out to those in your life with corporeal form or professional knowledge if the words weight too heavy. The archive is nothing without it's precious visitors, so please do take care of yourself.

Once your letter has been completed, you may notate the nature of its content. This allows for other visitors to sit with the words of others going through similar troubles. Remember, you are never alone in what ails you.

You mark the location in which the letter was lost. Perhaps on its way to a friend in the east? Or maybe in the fog that envelops every memory ascribed to said recipient? Visitors may also search by lost location. The comfort of knowing that allies exist near by is invaluable.

Lastly, choose what is to be the fate of your words. Will you entrust them to Strix and the archives? This allows Strix to file them online for other visitors to look through when they need to be reminded they are not alone. Perhaps your words are too private for even anonymous eyes? Then you may choose to have Strix release them to the void. The power of their weight to be lifted from your soul.

The choice is yours. Strix will fearlessly protect and guard each letter, no matter their eventual fate.