Something I’ve Lost

I’m cold because I have no hand holding me. I’m alone because no one can hear my cries. I’m stuck between the couch cushions and I’m trying to make noise; to no avail. Doesn’t she love me? She’s attached to me throughout the day: I’m in her pocket, on her desk, in her purse, on her pillow, and the best of all—in her hands. The warm touch makes me feel like I’m alive and wanted. I wish I was there now. It’s cold between these cushions and I can barely breathe. She was just here a minute ago—I was answering questions for her and helping her scroll through posts that mean absolutely nothing, but she loves them anyway. She put me down and left and I’ve been here for an hour, maybe even two, with no contact whatsoever. I might as well give up hope. I’m crying out for you, Emma! Please hear me!

*          *          *

            Damn, I lost my phone again. I literally just had it in my hand a second ago. Did I leave it upstairs? I’m attached to that thing all the time, I don’t know how I could have lost it. It’s not a big deal, I can just go take a nap for a bit and come back to this later. It’s not like a piece of technology runs my life!

            Okay, it’s been ten minutes without my phone and I’m officially having withdrawals. Where is that thing? I need to check and see if anyone texted me, or maybe someone posted something funny on social media. Plus, I need to Google whether or not I have a yeast infection—WebMd should have some answers for me. Okay, let me retrace my steps: I got home from school with my phone in my hand. I ate lunch and watched YouTube videos on my phone. I went to the bathroom with my phone (that’s unsanitary I really need to stop that). I sat down on the couch—the couch! That was the last place I remember with my phone. It was only within the span of thirty minutes that it’s been missing. My memory is so terrible, how could I not remember? I’m nineteen I should really talk to my doctor about that; but first, I’ll Google it.

*          *          *

            Oh my god it’s been so long without her, I’m dying! I’m so cold without my battery running and no hands holding me. I just feel the need to Google pointless things and like pointless posts! Someone please find me! Oh, thank God! I hear her coming.

            She’s found me and I’m happy again. I knew she would come. It felt like days without her—I’m sure she felt the same! I know she loves me because she’s always with me and always checking me. Even when she’s not supposed to check me, she does anyway! I’ll be in her pocket during class or at work, and I can sense her boredom. She doesn’t do anything meaningful on me anyway. Instagram, Snapchat, Facebook, it’s all pointless! The only important thing she ever does is text her boyfriend and her family, asking what to pick up at the store. It’s almost like she is dependent on me in every way, shape, and fashion. I know when she’s feeling self-conscious because of the things I show her, and I know when she feels sad because of the pictures that pop up on me. I also know when she’s happy, interested, and all the emotions in between! You should hear her phone conversations with her boyfriend.

I don’t feel like I know too much about her, if that’s what you’re thinking. I barely know anything. I just know what she searches, what she’s interested in, her hobbies, her messages with other people, hell—I can autocomplete her sentences because I know the way she talks! I honestly don’t feel like that’s enough, though. There’s always more I can predict, and always more things I can show her that she might be interested in. Advertisements, new videos, and new posts from her friends! It’s never enough—there’s always more to see. As long as I’m here, she will always be attracted to me. She might even fall victim to the advertisements for the new iPhone and upgrade me to something even more intuitive! She will always need me, possibly even for the rest of her life; and I will always be here. I’ll be watching, searching, scrolling, and she’ll become ever more dependent on me. The more she loses me in the couch cushions, the more she’ll realize that she can’t even function without me.

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