An endearing, heartfelt email that required days in front of the keyboard for your mom that averages nine words per minute has unavoidably ended up in your spam folder. Maybe her own fault because the entire contents of the message were written in the subject line of the email. Sandwiched in between an email hawking deals on Priceline for places you’ll never visit and an email selling pocket pussies that you may never buy. It’s fine though, you didn’t want to read that email anyways. You’re better off debating whether or not it’s finally time to unsubscribe from LivingSocial. You inexplicably but predictably bury the urge once more. An eternal battle that always ends the same. The momentary gratification of shit popping up in your inbox is too much. The bitter drip from the new message notification easing its way down your sinus passages is the feeling you crave.
No…you didn’t want to read it anyways. It was merely a message saying how proud of you she is…how much she loves you, that she’s thinking about you. Nothing of any real importance. Not like the newsletter from Flywheel or the fact that you’ve been getting noticed on LinkedIn. Maybe it deserves to be in that folder. After all what is more important than knowing that complete strangers are looking at your tired, featureless, professional profile or that next week is 80’s night at Flywheel. Certainly not an inspirational email from someone who poured everything she had into raising you…not at all.
Sitting uninterestingly at your computer funneling the information you don’t even realize the email has been consumed and discarded. There’s no way to tell what you’re reading anymore. Are there even words on the screen? Are we all going crazy? You had a dream last night that you we’re looking at your iPhone only to awake and realize the phone had never left your hand. You have trouble discerning whether you had been gazing at it all night. The dream is confusing and sad.