A spiritual sequel to a previous blog: Paranoia in Bullet Point Form.

Disclaimer: Once again, all of this really happened and names, nationalities, suburbs and countries have been changed to protect the innocent.

So you have a really close cousin who lives in England. Now because your extended family is all split up and living in multiple countries around the world, consisting of a plethora of many unknown cousins in often non-English speaking lands, you were really happy to meet Mark when he came to visit you in Australia in 1999. Considering it was the very first time you guys had met since years ago when he was 9 and you were 1, it was a welcome introduction to family previously unfamiliar and anonymous, regardless of the age difference. There was a real connection, not just in the common language being spoken, but also in personalities and motivations; in other words, cousin Mark was a good guy.

You found each other on Facebook years later, a happy reunion full of well-wishes and life updates and sending each other photos of your parents and pets and friends. Writing on each other’s walls. Commenting on each other’s holiday photos. It was all so very cousin-ish; albeit so social network-gimmicky as well, but it was certainly better than a return to zero contact and for that you remained grateful: the contact has not been very constant since that initial surge, which surprises you somewhat, but at least the option is there.

Having not heard from him for a while, you then get an email notification: ‘Mark Ooi sent you a message on Facebook’.

You excitedly click on that email, a hundred possibilities twirling through your mind as to what it could possibly contain. Important news? Good or bad? I hope nothing serious has happened. No no, I’m sure it’s okay. Maybe he’s getting married? Maybe he’s coming back to Sydney? It’s about time I went to visit him in England, I’ve always wanted to go…

You willingly stop yourself from over-thinking, deciding to just read the damned thing.