unsend.email

Send the email.
We’ll handle the not-sending.

Write the thing you absolutely cannot send. We professionally drop the packet on the floor. You feel forty percent better.

Write it anywaySee what Cornelius does next
UnsentSaturday, April 18
ToDad
ReWhat I actually wanted to say
Not a real email service.Send

In three steps, none of which accomplish anything.

Cornelius — thinking
STEP 01

Write it honestly.

Say the unforgivable thing. Name names. Use the words you promised yourself you'd grow out of.

Cornelius — whispering
STEP 02

Hit send.

You get the whoosh. The checkmark. The “delivered” notification. Our servers are certified to do nothing with extreme confidence.

Cornelius — shredder
STEP 03

Get a reply anyway.

An AI writes back in their voice. Pick closure mode (they finally understand) or reality mode (they say “k”). You can read both. Most people do.

Write one of your own →

Specifically, these ones.

What you should have said at Thanksgiving.

The resignation letter you've rewritten fourteen times.

The confession to your crush, who sits twelve feet from you.

An apology to your past self. CC: your future self.

The text to your ex that's a felony in three states.

A performance review of your manager.

A strongly-worded email to God.

Literally anything to your HOA.

Yours probably isn’t listed. Write it anyway →

We will, however, send you one real email.

(Yes. We know. The irony is intentional.)

When you unsend, we email your real inbox the thing you wrote — plus one honest sentence from our AI about what you were actually trying to say underneath all the caps lock. Think of it as a postcard from the version of you that needed to hear it.

Try it, with your real email →
Receipt · 04:17 AM
You unsent this.
To: Derek
Subject: Re: us
I don’t think you ever really saw me. You saw the part that was convenient.
Underneath this was

You wanted him to notice you leaving more than you wanted him to stay.

Cornelius — graveyard

Or bury it somewhere safe.

Sign in with a magic link and your letters live forever in the Graveyard — encrypted, searchable, yours. Great for: things you’ll want to reread in ten years, evidence you were right all along, drafts you swore you sent. You didn’t. Cornelius saw to it.

Free. Forever. Unreasonably.

Running this costs us money. We are aware. If it helps, there’s a “keep the lights on” button at the bottom of the page. If it doesn’t, close the tab with our blessing. No ads, no upsell, no freemium. We tried to design a premium tier and everything we came up with felt gross.

Grief

$0/mo

For the letters you cannot send because they would be received by no one.

  • —Unlimited unsends
  • —Both AI reply modes
  • —One honest reflection

Rage

$0/mo

For the letters you cannot send because you would be arrested.

  • —Unlimited unsends
  • —Both AI reply modes
  • —Destruction rituals included

Closure

$0/mo

For the letters you could send, technically, but shouldn’t.

  • —Unlimited unsends
  • —The Graveyard (encrypted)
  • —Receipts forever

Four promises

The things we don’t do.

Boring on purpose. Load-bearing.

Read the full privacy policy →

Questions you probably have.

An AI does, briefly, to write the reply. Then it forgets. No human ever sees it. We designed it this way because we’d also find that weird.