113 Emails.

113 emails. That’s how many angry (yet also educational is what I like to call them) emails I sent to a select few blessed and fortunate friends and family members over an investigation into my background that paved the way for atrocious tall tales and shenanigans. Apparently - unbeknownst to me and never ever really wanting to know this – my friends and family think very little of me. They seemingly ate up all the gossip as truth and certainty. That was disturbing, hence the despair mentioned on the About page.

So, in 113 emails, I managed to divulge the angriest, most hateful, thoughts I had in me – among other more rational, intelligent, and calm thoughts as well; however, I strongly suspect the latter are the thoughts that didn’t stand out. I’d normally be embarrassed by this or have practiced some restraint, though considering I was rumored to be a gunman, a thief, and bipolar, (among many, many other things) I’m pretty proud my angriest self spilled out to only those precious few lucky enough to have had close relations with me and by way of email only.

Don’t think I’m so naïve it never occurred to me that my email address was blocked by about the tenth message of rage. So, then instead of communication, the therapeutic release only of my inner most hateful thoughts is estimated to comprise about 103 of those emails.

Now, under normal circumstances – and mind you these are absurdly abnormal circumstances – I would have attempted an adult, calm conversation of directly broaching the subject related to their opinion of my character and the invasion of my privacy that was used in the investigation. But those less creative would have played dumb, and those more creative would have found a way to deny my inquiries by using the truth to circumvent the truth – you know like telling someone you didn’t take a “bite” of their pizza because in truth you used a knife to cut off a piece and eat it – that kind of truth telling. And I write “would have attempted” because I had already gently (yes, I can be gentle) broached this subject in conversation with them when I had only strong suspicion of the investigation or something awfully awry happening. So, I already had a taste of how the other side would respond, with veiled ignorance or truth telling that skirted the truth.

So, resulting were the 113 emails. They were sent to 7 people. That’s 791 times a person could have replied. How many replies did I get? Three. That’s three tenths of a percent in email replies. Now, mind you, they knew my emails were monitored. And well, I personally think it’s harder to deny or skirt the truth in writing than it is in conversation, especially given my questions became more blatant and direct in writing, with more evidence to back them up. The three replies didn’t address any of the subjects of the emails. They were from the same person. And one of them was about my dog.

Why write about 113 emails? I don’t know honestly. I’m running out of emails to write, I guess. I feel like the emails are similar to the process of asking too many questions during a philosophical inquiry. You’re only going to talk yourself all the way back to the beginning with no clearer answers than when you started. But somehow the process itself feels satisfying. This writing feels like putting a bow on the process.

… Now if you see a post with a title that reads “226 Emails” you know the bow didn’t work. And writing about the emails with the absurd tone attempted here, takes the edge off the emails themselves. And to me, highlights the absurdity of the contents and having to address not being a gunman, a thief, or bipolar.

A cautionary tale to readers – gossip can get insane.