Dear iPhone 4s,
Is it weird that I wrote the idea for this post on my new iPhone? The skinnier, shinier, better version of you. Or is the weird part that I feel guilty about it? It's not that I wanted to go out and find something newer and better, but the time had come.
For months everyone told me I could do better, but since they knew nothing about us I brushed off their remarks off as jealousy because they couldn't last as long as we did. You were actually a gift from a boy I briefly dated, a guy who to this day is always chasing after the newest thing to impress people with. His constant need to show off is what led me to decide he wasn't worth sticking with, but along the way he passed you along to me like you were nothing more than a paperweight.
Our time together has captured some of the biggest moments in my twenties. With you I packed up and moved across the country, learned the landscape of this new city, fell in love, and eventually fell out of love. It was on you that my now ex boyfriend first text me hello and you are the only thing that holds the thousands of words passed between us in the year we spent together, the good and the bad.
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I didn't want to let you go, which is why I wouldn't dare trade you in, but you just weren't as reliable as you used to be. Standing on the street waiting for the bus is already bad enough, but it's worse when I can't check the time in fear of you shutting down. Your nonexistent battery life made me grow tired of never knowing when you'd call it quits for the day, so after Storm Jonas I started looking elsewhere.
Although I could give you up in exchange for $100 and the guarantee of never having to reread text messages from my former life, I won't. To be perfectly honest, I don't trust this new phone. It's far too fragile and flashy. Every bump in my purse leaves me in fear that it will crack under the pressure, meanwhile I dropped you too many times to count with no hesitation of knowing that you'd be perfectly fine.
Maybe the boy who gave you to me had it right now, maybe it's wrong to grow so attached to people, places and things. Once you do it becomes so much harder to let go, or be let go of. Unfortunately I grow an attachment to everything from my doorman to a hair tie. And I'm going to continue to, because what's the point of anything if you can't hold onto the memories and things of something or someone you once needed?
Enjoy the chaos that is my junk drawer,