We lie loudest when we lie to ourselves.
I am unread. Unlike you, who classify yourselves as well-read or not, I am classified as unread or not. Well, you could call me not well-read too, I guess. I was looked at once, my innards glanced through, and was hurriedly marked as unread, starred and tagged. Given my length, the care with which I was composed, and the flurry with which I was stowed away, I probably contain something important, to be read at the opportune moment, something to be cherished and to be replied to with diligence and care. I felt a sense of pride.
I got composed and sent weeks ago, and have been lying here untouched, since. I get buried deeper and deeper every day, with a daily flood of newer stuff piling up onto me. While my composer, eagerly awaits a reply, (less and less eagerly each day, though) I have lost all hope of being read and replied to. I curse myself for carrying something so important. A thousand other replies have been sent, and a few thousand others composed here, but my turn hasn't come, yet.
How I wish, it'd be my turn today. How I wish, I could push my way up through to the top of the stack. How I wish, I could see the eager wait come to an end! How I wish, I'm given the attention I deserved, today! Reply, ASAP!
PS: Apologies for all those emails that are still starred and unread, in my Inbox…