once upon a time...
I decided, sometime in the less year, to make my life less public. After doing the 365 self-portrait project, everyone knew way too much about my life. Everyone thought they knew all the stories, even if they were just glimpses of my adventures.
In my irritation, I stopped. I wanted to tell my own stories. I didn't want lurkers to know anything more that had already been divulged.
I've always been good at deleting old e-mails. Especially those I never wanted any record of. Especially with my myspace. I wanted to keep the folders clean. Especially since douchebag had my password and would check it.
Then one day, out of the blue last fall, all of the messages I had deleted showed up. Over a thousand of them in the last 4 years. It would take hours to delete them all with their crappy interface, so I never bothered and I never even looked at them.
For some reason, tonight, in my procrastination to go to sleep--I went back to the beginning. Highly amusing rereading one-way correspondence from former lovers and friends and enemies. I can't read the words of those whom have deleted their profiles and I wonder who they were and what they once said to me.
I do not have any messages I sent, just those sent to me. I only perused the first couple hundred. Stopping to read a few of them. Someday I'll read through them all.
Try to remember who I used to be and, hopefully, be glad I am not her anymore.