The magic and the obfuscation of writing

I'm thinking back to relationships with some early Internet pen-friends. There's such an intimate relationship possible when we get to know someone through letters, because what we get to know is their perception of themselves, their environment, and daily experiences.

I still remember an AOL friend I had when I was 14 or so. She was decades older, but we had a shared interest (an actor to whom I'd created a Geocities shrine). We exchanged emails for a long time, sharing various details about our lives and feelings, until I revealed my age. She understandably felt some discomfort about it and moved on, but not before we met in person -- once.

She brought me a McDonald's toy of those light-up energy necklaces from Atlantis, which I'd loved when I saw it in the theatre. I still remember this friend and the excitement I felt when I saw an email from her in the mailbox.

I guess social media has us connecting through images of ourselves that we'd like to put out there. Mutual passions, less so. There's still something intimate, and kind of transcendent, about writing that makes you feel really connected to someone even if you've never seen them or where they live. There's something powerful about that use of imagination, too -- the part of us that naturally pictures the missing pieces that a written relationship omits. I think that imagination trends toward the positive, and it buoys people up invisibly.

I still hope people feel safe enough to be who they are, and not use the Internet as a cover for real circumstances and feelings (or being fourteen).