I am an aging iPod, ready to break at any minute.
When you first got me for your birthday, we were inseparable, admit it. We spent hours alone in your room listening to your favorite music and blocking out the world.
We had always been best friends. I talked you through your little tantrums by playing your favorite songs and I got the attention that I was built to receive.
Lately however, and ever more frequently, you’ve been leaving me behind; whether it be on the charger for days on end, or sitting on the counter waiting patiently for someone to listen to me.
My voice was the songs you now take for granted and my soul was your playlist. I know everything about you but what can you tell about me? If your soul fell apart, which it had on numerous occasions, I could have you put back together in the time it takes to drive to and from the mall. Can you say the same about me? If I snapped right now and fell into pieces in your lap, could you even begin to put me back together? I guess we’ll find out.
Oh now you want to listen to me as you hop into the passenger seat of your mom’s car? Now you want to remember all the good times we had and bond more than you were ever able to with a real person? Too bad.
Halfway there, I freeze; no big deal, right? Wrong. You push the play button with no response. You push it again, transferring your growing unease and frustration into the force you put on me. Your grip tightens, that hurts. You don’t care.
Apologize, that’s all you have to do. Just say that you’re sorry for leaving me in the cold, all alone and I’ll work again, I promise. We can make this right.
You turn me over and flick my back…OK, it’s on.
My screen goes white and so does your face. I have no problem breaking myself to spite you. You squeeze harder, irritating both of us to the point that while I may work fine later in the day, this experience will always stay with us.
You’re here. As your mom pulls into the parking lot, you curse me silently in your head. I watch your eyes and hear every word. In a fit of frustration and rage you snap off your headphones and toss me into the cup holder. Without thinking twice, you walk into the grocery store.
A half hour later, you get back into the car. My battery’s dead, I have no more fight left. The fact that I am hurt is plain to see and you realize this with remorse.
You take me out of the cup holder and place me gingerly in your lap. Gently, you wet a small section of your shirt with the water bottle you just bought and run the damp, soft cloth across my screen. As you wash me, you remember how it used to be, how I got you through some of the hardest times in your life.
After the decay of neglect has been washed away, you carefully place me into your jeans pocket. I’m right where I should be.
When you get home, you take me into your room and plug me into your stereo. My screen lights up and the charging symbol appears in the top corner. You push play and we relive what we had lost for so long. Friends forever.
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