a letter never sent
I think I do this because I feel empty. And for a while, when I started, it was fulfilling. Each ad easily merits fifty responses, if not more, excluding spam. And maybe fifteen will be worth writing back to. And maybe two or three will stay in contact for a while. But it always ends, always. I used to be hurt when someone left but now I just feel sad and disappointed. William, he was my most recent pen pal; I wrote to him over the summer. He was lovely, but married. He provided much inspiration for me, which I'm thankful for. But after him, it didn't quite feel the same, this addiction. I felt sort of emotionally neutral after him, like I used up a lot of emotion and he sucked it out. So then I stopped using craigslist. Which, you should understand, was quite a feat. I had been using it obsessively (posting and very very occasionally responding to others') since last December. I took a break from August through this posting, with the intention of never using it again. At one point I even attempted to delete my account, but it wouldn't let me.
I meet people in real life quite often. I've never actually hit it off with anyone from the internet; all those I've dated (or more or less) have been friends of friends or people I just saw around a lot. And I've never had a problem making friends. So this addiction, to internet-people, it's something more complicated or more innate. It's appreciation for my words, which are never so eloquently expressed using speech. And it's the mystery that surrounds these invisible people, built of thoughts, gently placed to form an image of a person never comparable to the real-life picture. And it's the idea of having someone wonderful to write to when time constraints allow it.It's about getting to know people I normally might not talk to. It's about learning new things from as many people as possible.
And I need practice. If I stop writing, I'm worried that I'll melt back into the background. I won't be special anymore. Because I don't have practical skills, like math or science. I can't analyze old literature and computers are easy to understand but I could never program them. I can't paint especially well and my photographs are average. The only thing I'm talented at? Making greeting cards. And there's not really a big market for greeting cards, that I know of.
So, in order to feel special, in order to practice my writing, in order to be fascinated, in order to make connections, in order to learn new things, I write to people.
I meet people in real life quite often. I've never actually hit it off with anyone from the internet; all those I've dated (or more or less) have been friends of friends or people I just saw around a lot. And I've never had a problem making friends. So this addiction, to internet-people, it's something more complicated or more innate. It's appreciation for my words, which are never so eloquently expressed using speech. And it's the mystery that surrounds these invisible people, built of thoughts, gently placed to form an image of a person never comparable to the real-life picture. And it's the idea of having someone wonderful to write to when time constraints allow it.It's about getting to know people I normally might not talk to. It's about learning new things from as many people as possible.
And I need practice. If I stop writing, I'm worried that I'll melt back into the background. I won't be special anymore. Because I don't have practical skills, like math or science. I can't analyze old literature and computers are easy to understand but I could never program them. I can't paint especially well and my photographs are average. The only thing I'm talented at? Making greeting cards. And there's not really a big market for greeting cards, that I know of.
So, in order to feel special, in order to practice my writing, in order to be fascinated, in order to make connections, in order to learn new things, I write to people.