A girl gets off from the vibration of her laptop

Why does my computer hate me? Why does it feel it must hold something against me for every time I have turned it off without shutting down all of its programs first? My sister’s dog does it to her when she doesn’t play with it enough. She’ll leave it outside for days at a time, and when she will finally let it sleep in her room again, it will eat her cell phone charger. My affection for both my computer and my sanity prompted me to write the following apology letter to my one true love in the midst of our ongoing spat, in hopes that it might aid in the reconciliation of our differences.

I play with you, Computer! I push your buttons and gaze at your beautiful screen all day long. And I try to find out more about you, what you like (I run de-frag on your memory every other month) and what you don’t like (I don’t keep glasses of orange juice next to you anymore…it will never happen again.). I get you top-of-the-line Super-Anti-Virus-International-Rock-Star-Protection-on-steroids, and then you tell me you are shutting down in 57 seconds, anyway. I keep you clean and away from mean people that might kick you or try to tear you up for your parts, and then you spit up Trojan Horses at me like we’d never even met. I don’t run more programs than you can handle at once, only maybe three at a time, so I don’t make you tired. And you still take five minutes to load web pages even when I see you’re not even working to your full capacity. I install a 56k modem in you to get you hooked up with the best that dial-up can offer, and still, you connect at 28k.

Was it the bundled spyware in that free music-sharing program I downloaded last month? Was it the porn I looked at when I got curious? I didn’t think you’d mind sharing your hard drive with my iPod, but I’d take it back if it would mean you’d stop being so mad all the time. Is this because of the nights I got too fucked up to remember to shut you off? Are you acting out? Is this because you felt neglected and you didn’t know how to tell me you needed more attention? Is this a cry for help? I’ll never you leave you in my trunk over the weekend again, it was a mistake, and I realize that. I didn’t mean to forget about you, but didn’t you see the smile on my face when I opened you up and you weren’t melted?

I promise the next time I buy a can of keyboard duster, I won’t use it for a good time on a Tuesday night when I’m feeling low. I’ll disconnect you from the phone line just as soon as I’m done looking up the lyrics to the Bob Dylan song I was too drunk to decipher the night before. I’ll stop turning you off when you take too long to shut down, and I’ll set up a better firewall so nobody can rape you while I’m away. I’ll buy you more memory so you don’t feel so overwhelmed. I’ll take you out to coffee and show you off to all the other computers who, like me, love to see a computer out enjoying herself, and being young, and being appreciated for all she has to offer.

Computer, I love you. But you have to stop. You have to tell me where I went wrong. I want it to be like it was in the beginning, when I had just opened your box, and our love was brand-new.

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