Email Poem

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Personal Note:
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Poem
I wake up in the morning and have to decide which side of the bed I will get out of today – it 
doesn’t really matter, because there is no one there to block my exit on either side.

I turn on the TV, not to see what’s on, but just to hear another voice in the kitchen other than 
the one’s inside my head reminding me that I am having breakfast alone once again.

I once thought that working from home, through the internet, for myself and by myself, 
would be a wonderful thing – but, that was when I used to change out of my pajamas at 
some time during the day.

Now the keyboard sits there mocking me in my loneliness.  The monitor acts more as a 
mirror to remind me I haven’t shaved in weeks than it does to display words of a manuscript 
that I should be working on.

How lonely am I?  I actually called my mother the other day.  Rock bottom.

I watch out my window for the approaching mailman so I can open the door as he is 
depositing bills I can no longer pay into the mail slot on my door.  He says he likes my 
Spiderman pajamas the best.

If I had a reason to do so, I would probably take a shower.  But then, I have become 
accustomed to my own stench and there is nobody else around to offend, save for the 
mailman, who I noticed doesn’t hang around to talk much any more.  Could be related, I 
suppose.

I don’t even please myself any more.  My imagination is not sharp enough to fantasize about 
things I haven’t experienced for real in such a long time.

There was a time when I would not answer my phone when an 800 number was displayed on 
the handset.  Today I do.  Talking to someone bemoaning that I am late with another 
payment, again, is, at least, talking to someone.

Stop mocking me Qwerty! 

I have given names to the inanimate objects in my apartment.  At times, they talk back to 
me.  I think today may be my birthday; the dishwasher was smiling at me.  The dirty dishes 
inside now have mold on them.

The mailman didn’t come today – perhaps it is Sunday.  I wore my Spiderman pajamas for 
no good reason.  

I didn’t write anything again today.  These words are just floating around in my head.  I am 
pretending you are a stranger reading them to make me feel a little less lonely.  You 
believing you are that stranger is just further validation that I am, indeed, crazy.
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