| When you talked of suicide I was one of the first to respond. Maybe I did care as much as I said I did, perhaps we really had formed some relationship through our idle conversations online...more than likely I saw you as a chance to recompense for my denial of a real-life friend in this same, all-too-real situation.
But you are frail and disposable. I can turn you off with the click of a mouse. Or I can just pretend I'm not there...ignore you.
If I say I'm crying, laughing...do you really know? I can hide the cruel things in my mind so much better than I ever could in the physical world.
These things we use to keep us together are too intagible. You are just the by-product of my good intentions--my unstable conscious working overtime to make up for past evils.
I hold your life in this little box of eletronic devices. I don't know you beyond this screen. If you killed yourself, would it make a difference to me?
It would...even if I couldn't bring myself to acknowledge your physical existence I would still mourn for your virtual demise...because you can show me how frail and disposable I am. With a click of a gun you can kill what I like to call my good intentions. I'm so dependent upon this electronic fix, my virtual addiction, forever feeding off these textual fractions of reality.
I could have been a savior twice now but I just ended up appeasing my ego. Maybe you can tell me just where I went wrong. On the internet of course...I can't trust myself in the real world anymore. | 
