Full Of It

I get a lot of strange emails.

You ever get those?

Strange emails?

Only from you.

I don't mean the scammy type.

Or maybe I do.

I don't know.

Because I never respond.

Rarely click.

But some I do.

I admit it.

I'll open it.

I won't click a link, though.

So don't even try it.

But I'll look at what's sent.

Once in a blue moon.

To add one to the read column.

Unless they put "Re: Blah blah" as the subject.

Never read those.

There's probably a better way to handle emails than to ignore them.

But what can I say?

I've only got so much bandwidth here.

That's a word I used to hear a lot. 

Bandwidth.

When I lived past what I thought I might not, I made a decision.

Now I'm not saying it's a great decision, but here it is:

I'd rather have strangers hate vehemently dislike me, if it meant my family loved me.

Now, sure, I suppose strangers and my family could love me, but that seems like an awful amount of work.

Truly awful.

And that hasn't been what I've seen out in the world.

To be and get both.

Beloved by strangers and family.

Hasn't been what I've seen.

So I made a choice.

My inboxes (sweet mother there's a lot of 'em) are all full.

But so is my belly.

And my heart.

Burp.

Oooh, got one coming out the other end, too.

I best leave it here.

💨