I am sitting here on my break at work as I type this, listening to the chirping of my cell phone's battery dying in my coat pocket nearby and wishing I lived inside that phone. Like me, it is broken. It still makes and receives calls, but the battery dies very quickly, and it no longer has a working screen. It is a pretty little pink phone that lives in my purse during the day and on the table at night, and it's badly in need to be tossed out and replaced by a newer model. How symbolic! I never knew that cell phones took on the personalities of their owners! In this corner at the computer sits a tiny person whose battery is dying and who no longer has a display screen...just a blank white light and the VERY occasional sound of a ring...and never from anyone who matters.



My phone scares me a lot lately. I never want to be my phone. I just want it to disappear along with all the pain in my life and the people associated with that pain.