Moving away from home for the first time triggered something inside my mind. As a Freshman, a sense of loss washed over me, and this sorrow manifested itself into a bizarre syndrome, an inexplicable dependency, a mind-boggling complex.

A small fish in an increasingly bigger pond, I yearn for communication with those I left behind. Technology, in the form of e-mail, presents the perfect solution for my need of maintaining those invaluable connections.

I’ll be the first to admit it. I need my e-mail. Yeah, that’s right. I am addicted to my e-mail.

When a long hard day at school had gotten to me, I decide to seek solace in my faithful HP Pavilion 7940. On instinct, I opened Internet Explorer and went straight to the Hotmail website. This daily ritual has become second nature to me, a habit as necessary as my mid-day nap. I logged in, and as I waited for the page to load, I felt the anticipation and excitement building up inside of me.

The familiar mix of Hotmail blues and whites greeted me and my eyes immediately shot to the left side of the page, holding my breath. The ‘1 new’ beside my Inbox sent a wave of ecstasy through my body. Somebody loves me!

Impatiently, I scrolled to the bottom of the page. “Hi, I miss you!” was the subject of the latest addition to my mail. I was beside myself! I clicked on it to read the message, expecting to be greeted with warm sentiments of well-wishing and inquiries about my new life. Instead, what met my eyes were bold neon letters: “FREE HARDCORE PORN” and “COME AND GET IT.”

I was crushed. Duped again! It felt like someone had ripped my heart out, chewed on it, ground it up into pieces, and then spit on it. Disappointment was the order of the day.

These spammers are cold and ruthless. They prey on the pathetic nature of people like myself, and manipulate our feelings in a form or ruthless guerilla marketing.

And I have had enough.

I refuse to forward another e-mail. I think my sex life will be just fine, thank you. I do not care for the new wardrobe GAP will send me. Oh, of course the offer is valid – the President of GAP obviously typed and signed the e-mail himself.

Yes, I am cruel and cold-hearted, for I will not pass this on so that all the starving children of the world will receive $100 each from God. I am sorry about your ‘poor son Jimmie’ with a rare case of whatever disease you have conjured up, but I doubt sending this on will raise funds for The Foundation of Jimmie’s Rare Disease.

My friends know I love them, I do not need to forward e-mails with horrid poems with AABBCC rhyme schemes that my English teacher would cringe at, and which end in “xoxo hUgGLiEs n sNuGgLiEs xoxo.” I doubt my crush will notice me if I send this to 1-5 people, kiss me if I send it to 6-10, go steady with me if I send it to 11-15, or marry me should this reach 16-20 people.

I have had my share of cartoon porn and, call me crazy, but Bart Simpson and Fred Flinstone in provocative positions really do nothing for me. Oh, and those darn personality quizzes have just devastated me. Question 5 asks whether I prefer the Backstreet Boys or N’Sync, and since I answered neither, it has been concluded that I am neither cool nor popular. Drat. And I am sorry to burst your bubble, but world peace will not come about simply by forwarding an e-mail petition with 5000 typed names to the King of the World. Ditto for world hunger.

Furthermore, I am eighteen years old. I do not need to look 10 years younger, or “turn back the clock and turn up the energy now,” no matter how many exclamation marks you tack onto the end of that. I am not worried about my wrinkles or my cellulite, and I think I’ll pass on the “rejuvenate every cell in your body and soul” offer. Heck, I didn’t even know my soul had cells.

I do not need my debt consolidated, nor do I have any desire to see pictures of prepubescent girls. And for the record, mammals and midgets posing with them aren’t appealing incentives to me.

As for a revealing and accurate glimpse into my future for the extraordinary price of $3.99 a minute? I just may have to pass. And last time I checked, the size of my penis was just fine so I doubt I will need to increase it by 10 inches, but thank you for your concern.

Then again…social status, a styling new wardrobe, the unconditional love of the object of my affection, the chance to save the world, and not to mention never-ending happiness do seem rather appealing.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if I hit the ‘Forward’ button…what have I got to lose? Morals shmorals…who’s it going to hurt anyway, it’s just another forward.