You are still a whisper on my lips
A feeling at my fingertips
That's pulling at my skin
You leave me when I'm at my worst
Feeling as if I've been cursed
Bitter cold within
[Days Go By – Dirty Vegas (Paul Oakenfold Vocal Remix)]
I'm cleaning my emails today. Apparently I'm subscribed to a lot of junk. I mean, who isn't? Back in the day it was exciting to open your email and find out that someone actually sent you email, even if it was some subscription to potentially useless information at you would have already known and never really used. At least it gives you reason to open your email. I get a lot of junkmail everyday, and I've always left it to the Gmail spam blocker to sort them all out. Plus, I got filters setup as well so it pretty much works on it's own.
Delete. Delete. Delete.
Wow, that's nice. There was a time before that I used to send pictures online to my blog using the MMS on my phone. I got them to send to my email and then my email forwards it to my blog. Voila. Instant posting. And I don't have to download the pictures on to mu computer since I would already have them saved through my email. Well, that was a nice idea back in the less stable, happier days, but now the pictures just remind me of things I'd rather not be reminded of (although unfair as it seems, I obviously can't avoid being reminded of them; waves crashing down everytime I open my eyes, and all that shit…) Delete.
An email from my past self. There's this website called where you could actually send an email to your future self. Just type in your email address, subject and message and then send away. They wil send you a confirmation link on your email so that they will know that the email address is valid and then all you got to do is wait. I apparently sent myself an email from about a year ago:
The following is an e-mail from the past, composed on Friday, February 8, 2008, and sent via
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Dear FutureMe,
you need new shoes. but you got to stop spending too much on anything. you're getting fat. get back to the gym.
Cool, ain't it? Yes, I need new shoes. Nope, I haven't stopped spending that much yet although going back to the first item, I haven't bought any shoes yet for the past 5 months. And I am saving now, thank you very much, past self. Yes, I'm getting fat, haven't been to the gym for about two weeks now. Yes, I'm going to the gym tomorrow. Hehe. Delete.
I sent another email to my futureself that I should receive on my 30th birthday. That should be a surpirse. I hope I still get to keep this email address by then.
Delete. Useless information. Delete. Useful information that I never really read anyway. Delete.
Past love. There are just those times that, even though you know deep in your heart you are determined not to go back into those dark, depressing places ever again, that even if you tell yourself that you are actually doing quite well compared to anyone else you know, ins pite of everything that happened, I mean, there's nothing much left to say now, really, like what is done is done and all you have left to do is to make certain that you live your life as normal (for whatever "normal" means in these kinds of situations anymore) as possible and just get on with your life, you, for the sick, sad, solitary, desperate life of you, still can't help but take a peek.
She used to be on your Friendster, now she's not. She invited you to Facebook, and for some reason you never get any of her updates. Oh, right, you must be friends to do actually see that. You're not. Not anymore.
I told you not to look. Curiosity killed the cat, but this cat just ended up spiralling back into those unanswered whys and hows. Don't we ever learn? Delete. For fucking chrissake, please delete.
Updates from my other online personalities and profiles that I haven't accessed in about a year or so. For some reason they just keep sending me stuff. As far as I can Google myself, I still have at least 100 hits that I have actually not posted myself on any sort of website or any media at all, knowingly that is. All others just are remnants of my old online self. Since we're in the process of cleaning up anyway, you know aht comes next…
Delete, delete, delete.
There are still things I can't help but not delete. I know I'll get on to these things eventually and that their purpose will slowly fall into place. And besides: You are currently using 285 MB (3%) of your 7315 MB. That number suddenly feels like the way I'm using my brain right now. Feels like the percentage of my life that I've actually lived. Feels like the percentage of time that I've actually made any difference to anything or anyone; the percentage of time that I've spent doing something useful with my life.
3%. Shit. Oh, well.
Everything else now is filtered to go into trash. Now to download some other song.

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