I’m not sure I’ll ever understand why you did what you did. I don’t know why you decided to hurl yourself to the ground twice in the last twelve hours. But it’s clear you wanted to hurt yourself, and now you’ve succeeded. I can only assume it’s because of something I did.
I never let you out of my sight. I pushed your storage capacity to its absolute limits, over and over, and you always begged for more. You spent every night, every single night, snuggled against my chest. The moments you were on top of me were some of the most perfect moments I’ve ever experienced.
I thought we were good.
I thought we were happy.
I worry now that my constant attentions began to smother you. There were hints, I suppose. You took longer and longer to start up, made louder and louder noises. Were you trying to tell me then? I didn’t know. I just closed my eyes and held you until you booted up. Were you cringing at my every touch? I can’t bear the thought. And when your headphone jack fell out, I gently nudged it back into you and lovingly taped you back together. But now I think you wanted to fall apart.
I’ve put so much of myself inside you. But then maybe that was the problem.
Did I just love you too much?
I think now of that groove on your left mouse button that fits my finger so perfectly. How I’ll never again dip my finger into its smoothness, hear you whirr to life and hum under my fingers. (Was that real, at least? Please let it be real.) And I think of the yelling, oh god the yelling, my cries of frustration when you closed Photoshop for the eighth time with no explanation and I realize now it was your quiet, desperate plea for me to stop and see you, really see you, and god I would take back every word, every single one if you would just come back to me. Don’t be gone. You can’t be gone. This can’t be over. We can’t be over. Please. Everything I am is inside of you. I don’t know myself apart from you, and I realize now how that overwhelmed you and I’m sorry but that doesn’t change the fact that all that’s good in me is in you.
Oh god. I hear myself (and only myself now, no more of your quiet constant calming purrs in the background, only the klaxons of realization honking in my brain). I hear how I’m making this all about me. Still. And… I think I understand now why you did what you did. I was selfish. I took you for granted. Entirely. I thought what I gave you was enough. I thought I was enough.
You should have said.
I should have listened.
If any part of you is still out there, please know that I love you. That I miss you. That I regret so much about my behavior during our time together. That the image of you crashing down that staircase, splayed open, vulnerable, breaking before my eyes, will forever haunt me.
I see you now, Laptop.
I see you.