Logging out

Log in. They were all connected, and for months this was a source of
joy. The first few messages contained nothing but wonder at finding so
many 'old friends' again. They babbled on, exchanged jokes, and updated
each other on what's been happening to them this past decade. Long
forgotten faces came out of the shadows to take shape and substance
again.

The emails flowed, almost leaving the inbox choking and bursting at the
seams. Warnings of reaching the space limit quickly makes even the
laziest of them delete those old messages advertising anything from
debt reduction to free spiritual newsletters that they had not bothered
to read at all.

What joy to have them all just a click away. No need to rummage through
old address books. No need to shrug when asked what everyone was up to.
No need to finish that letter that's been left half written. Was that
two years ago? No matter. Just log in and send a note. Done. Log
out.

Then the fun seemed to ebb away slowly. The honeymoon was over. Though
the jokes continued to trickle in, they all threw up their hands and
surrendered to the truth. They were trying to resurrect friendships in
cyberspace that had never existed in the tangible world. They were
trying to forget the long list of reasons why they never got along,
never made the effort to stay in touch. They were forgetting why they
had preferred to shrug when asked what everyone was up to these
days.

The cliques stayed in tact. A few die-hards still made half-hearted
efforts to create links with those from whose lives they had long
logged out of.

Depressing? Well, that's life. Even in cyberspace. Log out.