To One Of My Oldest Friends

Dying, spasming, flying off the handle, dragging your feet, going where I don’t want to go, not doing what I want to do, not doing what I order to be done, being a bad friend, not repaying the years of tender love and care, the years of wiping you clean even though my skin tends to pile up on you.

All reasons why I am replacing you with someone else.

My laptop is going to be 6. It’s a 13 inch Macbook Pro. I have a thing about laptops, phones too (both carry personal information), where I do everything on them. I take notes on them, my creative output pours into them, and I religiously back up so I never lose my work. It’s a very personal object, and when a previous laptop was stolen (which felt like a deep invasion of privacy, worse than your mom walking in on you masturbating) I became very protective of this one. I never left it out of my sight when taking it out of the house. I took pristine care of it. And that’s kept it going for six years.

But it’s breaking down, fast and quite badly.

So even though it’s going to be replaced, by a 15 inch brother, it’s a little sad on my part. I can’t really give it away so someone else will have it. I don’t like junking it. It’s strange. I know. But I’m attached to this one. I wrote two of my books on it, one that was trash and one I rather like. It took me through nearly all of college. I guess I’m sentimental, which might be odd since it’s an object, but there’s a lot of history with it. And I like the two broken chargers that I own. And sorta how I have to press down harder than normal to get the trackpad to work. And how there is not one scratch on my screen.

It’s mine and it reflects how much care I’ve put in it to keep it running this long without a scratch or a ding.

And right now, even though it’s dying in front of me with a couple spasms throughout the day, it kept me busy this morning when I was in the throws of vertigo and then through the ruptured appendix scare this afternoon.

I’ll miss it long enough to power up the new one, and then it’ll sit in the corner as a slave to its new master.

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