The Written Word

         Being used isn’t something humans like, but I love it. I feel bare right now, my back unrightfully exposed after being ruthlessly thrown at the wall. Yet, I’m still talking to tell my story...his story. I was newly bought in a box; well actually I came to being in that box...in the darkness. Soon I felt the box I was in getting wrapped up extravagantly. In what it felt like years later I heard the crinkling of paper and felt a little earthquake. Then I saw the light and a teenage boy’s face. His expression was unreadable but he seemed rather happy. “Thanks” he muttered to his parents who were graciously gathered around a beautifully lit tree. They smiled sadly in our direction and he immediately proceeded to rush me to his room. After that he shoved an object into me, the other side being stuck in the wall and I suddenly felt drunk. The next day he used me often. His parents told him to always keep me on him. I’m proud of myself for being so important, knowing such an explicit vocabulary and knowing lots of numbers. My owner, Chris used me often. I always knew things he told other people and I felt as if I knew all his secrets.  It seemed as if he liked a girl named Nikki, it was easy to tell. Not so literally they talked through me often. Nikki always seemed nice, wise. Being me, I read every single one of their dawning conversations. It was obvious by the way he talked to her that he trusted her with his life and loved her. In the way she returned the conversation it showed the same towards her feelings. But that day when she finally told him how she felt about him I noticed he couldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day. I’m the one who delivered the message meant for him, I felt the same way he felt when I saw his crooked grin. The beginning of every morning even before the sun awoke; Chris lazily got up and prepared for his boring days of school, sloppily sliding me into a small compartment of his backpack. Of course, even when he wasn’t allowed to keep me around and put me to the test, at school he let me tag along. I felt loved. A few months later everything went downhill, Chris went crazy with grief. Nikki told him that she only meant that she loved him as a friend and nothing more, which we both know wasn’t true. She used to always talk romantically to him, as if he meant everything to her. I drowned in a thousand small drops of sorrow as Chris texted her, hoping...pleading. But nothing helped, he only made it worse. He handed his heart to her, trusted her with it, and she suffocated it in return. I wouldn’t know what having a heart’s like, but I’m sure glad I don’t have one. When Chris realized there was nothing he could do, that it could only get worse he became crazy, he did crazy things, he always stayed shut in his room with the shades drawn and the door locked. There was nothing anybody could do to save him from his own grief. Finally he exploded and threw things into the wall, picked me up and that’s how my back became bare. I don’t know where he is now or when he will come back, but he shattered the window shamelessly and left to...