The carelessness of contact


I often rail against the idea that our digital world allows us to be too familiar, too casual, to treat people like catalog selections we can discard, disposably. I hate this, but I am equally guilty, placing blame on the platform, on time, on my own inability to stretch 24 hours into more than it can hold. Sure, I am not casual or dismissive in any way with my actual friends, but I have become one of those robots who traipses through online forums and sites, starting halfhearted conversations and dropping them. They, of course, don’t seem real. And most conversation partners engaged in this digital wasteland usually feel the same way.

But not always. (Holding up mirror to my own hypocrisy. No surprise there.)

Tonight, I started going through an old inbox, finding old, unanswered messages. Most of them were of the dull, generic, “Hi” variety. Yet there were some genuinely lovely messages… and I am the one to drop the ball, and there is no way back (“User X no longer has an account”). There’s nothing like the kick you give yourself when you realize you may have squandered a good connection. Carelessly.

One thought on “The carelessness of contact

  1. Trevor

    Asymptotes & Sunshine

    I would never have thought of reducing you to a mathematical equation
    or a formula for common and uncommon lusts
    but I say assuredly
    The closer I get the more you retreat from me
    as if my sun will never met your horizon
    your asymptotes; my sunshine
    In my part of the world
    There is a legend of how Maui tried to ensnare the sun
    and fished up this antipodean nation
    All I ask is you come a little closer
    Dare to believe in the transcendence of sunrise.

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