Letters To E (and Me)

So in my continuous effort to fend off loneliness and convince E that I am a good conversationalist for both of us (she doesn't talk much), I responded to one of her one line letters in which she asked a question in response to a question I asked her that she didn't answer until prompted by a few emails that started off with a single line subtly taunted her for not answering the original question. The title is my next T-Shirt Idea. Anyway, after ignoring my poking answer to my question that she didn't answer in the second email, she asked a question about the answer to the question I asked her that started the third email. So I responded... I answer myself. Maybe you noticed (referring to the last email I sent ) She doesn’t get my literal sense of humor sometimes. Yeah I know. Especially when she doesn’t answer a question and I speculate on the possible answers. Yeah, she doesn’t always give the attention I crave all the time. That’s your problem, being insati

So this is an example of why I used to do to work through frustration and amuse myself. Writing. Writing to people who once cared for me, or so I dearly believed. Writing to imaginary people who love me unconditionally, or so I dearly believed. Writing to myself, who completely adores me and accepts me and wants nothing but my happiness loving and being loved and being loving and dearly believing. One of us is real, I just know it. So tonight I thank my dear memory of E, or at least who I imagine E to be, once again. E for the win! We did have fun once, didn't we? Whatever, maybe it wasn't fun for you. Anyway, you wouldn't believe what Frank the old umpire did tonight. It was obvious that he was pissy because it rained on and off all evening and our 8:30 games wasn't starting until after 9, but bad calls, horrible strike zone, and unfriendliness aside, he let the other team manipulate him into giving them a win. They are a great hitting team and were hitting

This blog continued elsewhere, like all the others, in voice-to-text messages on my phone then emailed to my email and sitting there waiting for me to cut and paste and edit the babbling into entries to be posted in their respective blogs. Like this one where I store copies of letters to E (and me). And as if there was some sort of reason for proof to be needed, here is one recent little ditty: Here I am, after midnight, just finished a cheese omelette snack and chocolate protein drinks and buying more T-Shirts I don't need and giving into impulse cuz I'm lonely and blah blah blah and I am wondering if you wrote. I did. Several blog posts. You know I blog, right? Almost daily sometimes in several different blogs. Nobody reads, or at least nobody tells me they read. Lonely there too lol. But the words keep me company and help me figure things out and maintain some mental emotional balance of sorts. Posting the words on the internet keeps the dream alive, the dream of sharing e