Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member

Members

Myemail
Ohio   

Poems

Tryst  Aug 2014
The Lost Password
Tryst Aug 2014
Load Steam and select old nostalgic pre-purchased game
    You must log into uPlay to play this game

Log into old uPlay account
    Login failed, you should request password reset

Request password reset
    Password reset sent to old email account

Log into old email account.
    Your old email account is now suspended, please contact support

Contact email support
You must have an active subscriber account number to contact support

Contact uPlay to inform them old email address no longer available
    You must log into uPlay to contact uPlay

Create new uPlay account, log in and request old uPlay account details
    You must send us screenshot of your steam account

Log into active email account to upload screenshot
You must add security to this account, please provide a second email address

Provide second email address details
    You must log into second email address to confirm ownership

Log into second email account, confirm security change
    Security confirmed, please log into primary email account

Log into primary email, upload image to uPlay**
    *Please wait for technical assistance ...
I love how digital technology has simplified life, there used to be a time I'd just accept I'd lost that old CD and move on ...

ADDENDUM: support did manage to help restore my account, hoorah!
Michael Pick May 2015
I'm so scared, what if you do check this email? And you read my email. What would you say? Or not say? Or react? Or you don't remember me or something. I don't know what I'm doing or thinking but I reread our facebook messages and I wish I could reread our msn messages and I have no idea why I did/do/want to do any of that.

What do I expect? No clue. None. I am leaving myself in the dark on this one.
Probably chalked me up as a bad experience in your life. Or something.
I bet you've got sweet digs to live in, a good job or a good school to go to, some good boyfriend. Great family. I should've said congrats on graduation. I'm really late now. And Happy birthday. How were you ever 14? How was I ever 14? Merry Christmas. It's late, but you said it to me one year and I didn't reply. So that's settled and even.

Facebook is frustrating. It shows all of your messages to me, yet only shows half or less of mine to you. Not that I need to see them. I was probably a ****. Well, I was a ****. I think I still probably am. No surprise. Is this creepy? I'm gonna guess you think it's creepy that I'd email you and search you up after so long. It's probably wrong. Probably a lot of hate. For all my talk I ever spewed out, that's not a feeling I have currently. I am so confused.

You'd probably be confused too if you opened this. Or read my message on tumblr. I saw your blog in my old bookmarks. Man, did that give me a start.

What are you doing in college? Are you in college? I remember you wanted to do cosmetology. I don't remember when that was, or if you still did. I'm sorry. You used to say you ****** at math and science, I hope you didn't take those. Or, conversely, I hope you did and you aced them both this year. Can you take both? I don't know how college works there.

Here's a random creepy thing I guess. Dreamed about you pretty much every night since I met you, even when we weren't talking, were fighting, you thought I didn't care, or since I... well, I guess I blocked you at one point. Whatever the hell was wrong with me. How'd I dream about you? What capacity? I dunno. Nothing weird. Don't worry. You were just always there. At least I don't think anything weird. I don't know.

You pretty much always said you thought things would get 'bad' between us again. Guess they did. My fault, I know, don't worry. I've never been a good with people kind of person, never in touch with feelings, always a little on the angry side. Do you consider it bad between us? Or were you just thankful to get rid of me? Whoops, that came out a little weird. I hope you know what I mean.

I miss texting you.

Who are you anymore? What do you like, what's your passion, who do you love, who loves you, where do you live, have you travelled? Do you believe in God? Soul mates? Public health care? Jesus, sorry, too many questions. Probably don't deserve answers.

I'm sorry that there's no flow to this. No topic or whatever. I used to brag that English was my strong point, but I guess it's not, afterall. Or at least when it comes to you. Right now. It's 4 am. What the hell.

I can cook pretty good now. You should try some of my food some time. I make a pretty good chicken dinner. Winner winner.

You always knew what I would say. Always. Good or bad. Did you expect this? Did you expect it to come earlier, or later, or never? Where did you think I would end up? Did you ever want to talk to me? Miss me? Want to be friends, at least? Did you hate me, despise me, wish you never met me? I'd understand if that one was true.

Do you think we've changed? I feel like we're still the same people we have been. Somewhere. I feel like we adapt but the right environment brings out... the old settings? I don't know. Jesus, we were so off again on again! Even as friends. I swear, that Katy Perry song, Hot and Cold, so described us. Or at least me. But I think we were both a little off.

If your boyfriend (or girlfriend) is reading this they are probably confused and I am sorry. Why do they read your emails? Do you actually have a girlfriend?

I'm sorry that I'm annoying.

I know, I always apologized too much.

First time we ever talked on FB was 2012? Holy crap. 3 years ago. August 20th. We must've known each other for a long time before though... I mean, we lost track of each other for awhile. Or I did. I don't know if you ever expected to talk to me again.

Real talk for a second. These messages hurt my heart. For a lot of reasons. And I don't know how I got into them, so I'm sorry. It's like... going to your childhood home and remembering where you had your first birthday cake, and the first time you fell down the stairs. Except, it wasn't the first time. Because there were so many times before that. There's just no picture albums for them. I don't know what I'm saying. God, what does any of this even mean?!

What a waste of time for you to read this, I bet. I'm so sorry. I should've stopped before I even started. Am I even gonna send it? I don't know. I'm scared. You hate me? Nah, you don't care enough by now to hate me. Why do I keep circling that? How do you feel? That question, why's it matter? After all this time? I am insignificant. Billions of stars light up skies and fade away and nobody remembers, so why would you.

I live in so much mediocrity right now. Settlement after settlement after settlement. I am so scared.

'Always allow for error. Never be optimistic for you will be betrayed by your own fantasies.'

I'm not even sure what that means, but I feel like I've lived to it far too much.

What is going on?

4:14 am.

I put you through so much. And I am so ashamed. And I hate saying 'so much' because it makes me sound like I think I was soooo important. When I don't. I don't think that I was. And I don't think that anybody who is as mentally and emotionally exhausting as I have been should ever be considered a large facet of someone's life, important, etc.

And jesus, the fact that that outlook applies to me and how I've been hurts my heart so much.

I don't think I have an identity anymore. I need to find who I was. I've been defining myself by the people I've surrounded myself with (ugh), the place I live (ugh) and my work. Work is the only positive that I have had in life, and my new job, though well paying, is a drain on my emotions and my optimism. Forever settling for mediocrity. The second best lifestyle available. Of course, perhaps the best lifestyle isn't available. Or perhaps this is the best I can get. Maybe this isn't even close to the best I can get. I don't know. Life swallows me.

I am so sorry for coming back. I'm probably going to email you again. I'm sorry for that, too. I just need something. And seeing your email in my list, it felt like that was it. You don't have to respond, I guess. God, I wish you did, but I am so afraid.

I'm sorry.
I'm not sure how this came about
Lou Romano Oct 2019
The subject of this email is as usual... subjective! Not sure there is actually a subject involved? I mean if I just ramble on about any old thing that crosses my mind, how would that be described as a subject. I submit that the "subject" line of all emails should be moved to the end of an email! That way we would have a better grasp of what the subject of the email truly is.

Better yet it should automatically prompt you to go to the subject line when you click "send" to fill in at that time. Maybe the email program should even give samples of possible subject lines based on google's interpretation of what you have typed in the body of the email. Better yet that program should just run automatically and impose a subject line based on the information in the message body after it is run through several psychiatric data bases and analyzed and a consensus has been reached...

Hmmm... Now I'm thinking that there should be a mind to keyboard interface so we can do away with all this time-consuming typing! And while we're at it why not add a chip in our brains that thinks for us and sends the data it receives directly to the keyboard interface... I mean think of all the time we would save not having to think any more!

Why stop there? We can also add emotion chips so that when we are letting our thinking chip talk for us we can also have the emotions that our emotion chip thinks we should be feeling automatically inserted into the email with the capability of it being felt by the emotion chip in the person whose thinking and keyboard interface chips are perusing the email written by our thinking and keyboard interface chips.

Ooooh now I'm really thinking... why not install mini SD drives in our brains so we can change the way we feel by simply inserting a new SD card? That way if we happen to read one of the emails thought out by our thinking chip, written by our keyboard interface chip, analyzed and consented to by the psychiatric data bases and given a subject and we decide that we want to change the way it is perceived by the thinking chip of the recipient we can simply insert a different emotion SD card into our SD drive and have those new emotions embedded directly into the email!

***! This is genius! Imagine the time we could save! I could just go on and on with this! The applications are limitless. Why hasn't someone thought of this before? Oh wait, what am I thinking... this is old news. This is called brainwashing and the government and every major company in the world has been doing it since the dawn of capitalism!

I'm going to stop now because I am no longer sure if the words I write are my own, or if they are just a bunch of noise created by the humm of all the post hypnotic suggestive clutter in my brain from years and years of commercial TV and slick politician abuse.

That's all I have time for this morning. I apologize in retrospect for the emotional agony I have put your brain through while reading this inane banter...