Love is like a cellphone.

Love is like a cellphone.
When you get a brand new one, you’re all excited. Eager to figure out everything about it. The different apps, games, take pictures with it, and figure out what else it has under it’s sleeves. You might even brag to all your friends about your new phone. Anyone who fucks with it will die.
Then a couple of months later, it’s still fairly new. You’ve dropped it here and there, but you’re still taking quite good care of it. It’s not something you’ll randomly tell your friends, as they’ve heard more than enough. The shine and gloss of your cellphone is still there, but you can tell that it’s beginning to fade. Your cellphone is more than enough.

A couple of months more, scratches became quite visible. People ask the stories behind each one. You tell a lie, saying, my friend dropped it or my baby cousin was playing with it outside or my dog found it in my bag. Hiding the fact that it was most likely a cause and effect of your doing. Still, regardless of these flaws, you accept it and move on. After all, it still is your cellphone.

Months pass, the battery starts to lose its life span. The life of your cellphone isn’t as strong as it use to be. Text messages don’t appear right away when a friend sends it through, or maybe it doesn’t even show up at all. The keypad is worn out, losing the letters that each number portray. It’s still useable, but it’s not as appealing as it once was.

A year ago, you were so proud to have that cellphone. Now, it’s just paperweight. A paperweight that can text, and make phonecalls and hold your music for you. It’s not the latest, most hi-tech one around, since you did get it a year ago, but you bear with it. You’ve been with it so much, why stop now? But you can’t lie to yourself. That new cellphone, with it’s touch screen capabilities, sleek shape and brand new useful apps seem a million times more appealing than what you have.

A week later, you walk into the store, staring at that new phone that you’ve been eye-ing for weeks. Inquiring about the kind of details that one would consider when looking for a new phone. Your old one, still by your side, can only watch in fear and trust that you won’t abandon it so easily. It knows it’s end is coming up, but if cellphones had feelings, I’m sure they’d fight to stay with you.

A few months after, you’re opening the box of your new phone.

What happens to your old one?

It might as well have never existed.