16 Apr

Today as I delete 531 emails–eBay, Williams-Sonoma, MoveOn, PPKM, Classmates, Dunham’s, Trip Advisor, Twitter, Active.com, Pottery Barn, New York Times, SitterCity, Famous Footwear, The Grommet, My Recipes, Yummly, Goodreads, igourmet, OpenTable, SiriusXM, Kickstarter, Airbnb, Marriott, Hilton, LinkedIn, Travelocity, Travel Channel, more (I’m drowning here)–I search again and again, site after site, for the unsubscribe button, hidden in minuscule, barely-perceptible type on the bottom of the page. I click.

“Do you want to receive fewer messages? How about only these?”

No. Release me.

“Wait! Please don’t go!”

But I have to. I’m, I’m weary of pleas and recipes and commerce, reminders and more reminders. Pleas for donations. Pleas for my business. Pleas to review purchases. Pleas for validation, for friendship, pleas to be liked. On Facebook.

“We’ll miss you!”

I’m sorry. Really. Please release me.

“We hate to see you go. Can you tell us why?”

It’s more a feeling than a reason, really, one of loss. Or maybe it’s a  yearning, for something I used to take for granted. Freedom from being wanted. It’s not that I don’t like your stuff, your politics, your recipes. It’s not that I’ll never visit you again. It’s just that you’re…too clingy. You want too much from me. I’m drowning. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s, it’s neither of us, really. Nah, that’s a lie. It’s you. It’s all you.




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