Empty Inbox

(Forenote: I wrote this at night when I was feeling really lonely and dark, but they are my true feelings communicated the best I could convey them. Hope you at least find some interest in it.)

Every day I connect to the world through the internet. Most of the time it is my solitary line to the outside for I despise leaving the sanctity and security of my home; my refuge; my cave.

Most of the days I connect I always check one thing: my inbox. It is a simple thing. When someone messages me, I will receive a notice that someone has contacted me and wishes to exchange thoughts and ideas. I can then choose to read what they have written, engage with another person about their own original thoughts. Thoughts that are not mine.

When someone messages me...

If someone messages me...

I get a rush of curiosity and emotion when I get such a notice. Who could it be? What do they want? Did they take the time to write me something?

Sometimes...

Never...

When I do get that notice I read what they have to say. I open the email, most of the time it is junk that hasn't been marked by my spam filters. The rest of the time it is a chain letter that someone thought was amusing and passed on to me. An impersonal, general, nothing-special chain letter. How many others have read that same letter? It tells me in the address box at the top, with "FWD" next to it. I just become one of those names...

No...not today...I look at my email and there is nothing. No notices; no letters; no one wants to talk to me today...

I also do instant messaging, or IM. I log on IM program and sit at the computer and do something else. Truthfully...I wait. Wait for one person to talk to me; One person to share ideas and knowledge; One person to tell me of their world...Earth...of the people they've talked to.

Not today...there is nothing...

Why is it such a let down today? Why do I care today? There were many a times I was invited to parties and groups. I've had many opportunities to go to dances. Each time, however, I turned them down. When my mother told me I had to go to the dance I lost my mind. I became and entirely different person: enraged, violent, unrestricted, forceful...dark, and frightening. My mother receded, backing away from me as if I were a caged beast that had growled menacingly enough to cause her to retreat in fear.

I hated being that person...

...but he is me.

Why do I hate people? Why do I hate to go to dances? I wasn't even expected to dance, just to sit and be there; but I preferred to sit in the car...quiet...alone.

Alone...people tend to connect it with sadness...I connect it with peace, happiness, quiet...

...and torture.

Why? The only question that ever comes to mind. Why? Why am I this way? Why don't I want to dance? Why don't I want to meet people? Why do I hate people? Places? Activities? Why does the mere thought of a dance imbue me with such disgust and malevolence?

So I sit in my various chairs and places thinking about how I should be more outgoing. How I should make more friends, dance in dances, talk to a girl...then I toss it all away and call myself crazy. Why would I want friends when all the people in the world care nothing for me or cannot understand me? For that is a truth, no one can understand what I mean when I communicate with them. Like bad reception on a cell phone, those machines that I find pointless except for emergency calls, they do not understand what I am trying to say. It's worse than not having human contact...seeing human faces, hearing them, understanding what they are saying...but not being able to respond.

On the news we always see the worst of the world. Through it we learn that the world is pain, suffering, and that everyone is out to better themselves. I cannot tell lie from truth, so I assume all are lies. That is why, I believe, I don't care to communicate. The world abuses the power, they use it to get things for themselves. A woman that marries a man, all the while planning to divorce him and take almost all he owns. A man that knowingly causes an accident to befall himself and takes advantage of the horrible justice system and sues for millions of undeserved credit. All the lies and all the mistruths drive me to insanity.

So I sit...and wait...for one more message to come...to pull me back from dark insanity...sweet, secure darkness that would be insanity...into the painful, burning light of society. But it does not come.

At the end of the day, it is time for me to go to sleep. The sun has set, and the moon has risen. Once more I check my inbox, my IM screen, and sigh. No one wanted to talk to me today. No one cared to send me a funny or heartfelt message.

No one talked to me...

...why can't I just enjoy the silence?

I ponder where I am in their hearts. Am I a friend? A foe? Someone to take advantage of?

...Or am I just a freak that they feel obligated to spend time with and communicate with...am I just a creep who they care nothing about?

I turn of my computer, with a sigh of disillusionment and a heavy heart. Another boring day on my computer. I could have gone outside, but instead I waited for people to contact me. I could've started a conversation myself, but what if they don't want to talk? No, I let them start the conversations...because I am too timid...to antisocial to talk to someone else...

I think of the moon and wonder if it is as reclusive as me. No, I think to myself, it can't be. It socializes and dances with the stars at night. Is the sun? It may be, but it knows that there are others just like it out in the heavens, the stars, and it has the planets for company as well. No, I am like a rock in the darkness of empty space, near no galaxies, and no stars, hoping for one of their lights to reach my inbox.

No messages today. No light from any star. No one has anything to say to me.

There is only sleep left for me, to wake up another day and wait for no messages to be received.