Recently got this email from one of the online dating sites:
"Konnichiwa! Ni hao ma? The last woman I dated was Asian. Please read my profile and let me know if you’re interested too!"
Click on profile link to reveal a balding, pot-bellied middle aged man with the face of a diseased child molester.
DELETE.
Uh, I think I’m done.
Read this horrifying article the other day about a 38-year-old woman named Joyce Carol Vincent who died in her apartment — and wasn’t discovered for three whole years.
Finally, people came around to her apartment because she was really behind on rent — they broke down the door and found her skeleton in front of the TV (which was still on all this time) and a bunch of Christmas presents she’d been wrapping for friends.
Nobody bothered to check up on her. Not once in all three years.
A British documentary maker made a film about Joyce and when I sent the link to a friend, she later mimicked the so-called friends interviewed in the documentary (doing a great fake British accent): "Oh yes! She had a LOVELY voice! She was just LOVELY!! Oh! Dead, you say? Golly, how awful!" (Ok, so nobody said that, exactly.)
But, I couldn’t help thinking, "Christ…that could be me."
It’s what all of us singletons fear, though, isn’t it? Not mattering — nobody caring. Just…disappearing and nobody even noticing you’ve been gone for three whole years.
There’s just a sadness to it all that’s almost unbearable.
Chocking indeed. Sometimes I wonder (though not long) what people would think if one just disappeared/passed away. Luckily, I have good people around me (plus a job, including nice colleagues), and basically couldn’t escape civilization even for half a day without being contacted.
I wish you well.
By: 梅花 on October 19, 2011
at 11:23 pm