
Uh... hi. I know you can't hear me right now, but the doctors told me that I should talk to you. We haven't spoken much recently, PC, but I was the first person you told them to call before it all went black. It's funny, isn't it? How after all that we've been through and where life has taken us that I'm still your first phone call? I'm losing focus already, and I knew this would be hard, so I wrote down what I wanted to say. I'll leave a copy here for you because after you're re-OS'd you probably won't remember who I am, but I hope my words might store a fragmented packet of a memory in some lost cluster of your system.
I'm rambling already. Here goes.
Do you remember how we met, PC? It was just after my ex and I split up. Sure, we had been introduced before then and we hung out a little, but we met- we really met that summer when she dumped me two days before my birthday. A friend at work told you that I was looking to meet some new people to hang out with, and he knew that you had a whole MMORPG's worth to introduce me to, so he put us in touch. It was weird at first, since we didn't have much to talk about and I spent the first hour or so in-game locked onto an NPC and running in panicked circles, but something clicked between us. I'll always remember how sweet and musical your laugh was when my level 1 ass was handed to me by an Orc in East Ronfaure.
Soon I was spending all of my money on flashy upgrades for you- a killer graphics card, an LED backlit keyboard, a fleet of extra fans... you were all I could think about. I'd rush home to jam an eager finger onto your power button and before either of us knew it, it was 3am and we were anything but tired. Do you remember those days? I thought I saw your power indicator light flicker just then but... no, the doctor said that would be impossible.
Within weeks we were an official couple. At work, I'd be looking up ways to make you happier or finding fun sidequests for us to do together on a rainy Saturday morning and - ugh - I'm losing focus again and I'm writing this. It's hard for me to get through this next part, but I'll try.
You understood me, PC, like no one else did. I'd be stuck at some dull party and you'd call or email me with a convenient excuse to leave. Muttering something about "server downtime" I'd rush over to your place at midnight on a Saturday and I'd spend hours VPN'd into you from the electrifying chill of the server room, as we both tried desperately to devour each other's warmth over a standard PPTP connection. I think those were some of the best moments of our time together, and if you could even boot to BIOS right now, I know you'd agree with me. It's in your firmware.
But soon, cracks started to form between us. It started with my iPod - you never liked her - and I admit that my constant references to how sexy, sleek, and exotic she looked were kind of rude in retrospect. You'd roll your eyes and casually BSOD at first, but you indulged my wandering eye and convinced yourself all the while that it was ok - healthy, even - for me to flirt with other brands. When I asked you to spend some time with the iPod, though, that's when the trouble really started.
It was a classic lover's fight. I had a super-important article to finish for my urban ethnography class and you decided we needed "to talk" at 11pm the night before it was due. I was frustrated, but I indulged you and held you when you eventually broke down. As the hours rolled by, my stoic mask began to slip and I could no longer just tell you that everything was going to be ok.
I saw the clock, it was 2:30am and the tears started to roll down my cheeks as I told you how much I needed you - not just then, but always. You believed me - hell, I believed me - but we both knew at some level that I was lying. I wanted to finish that paper and go the hell to sleep. Finally, you calmed down and I was able to complete the article with an hour to spare before class. I knew things were bad, but I still thought we could salvage "us".
I don't know what made me think a threesome would do it. Juvenile lustful fantasies, I suppose, but we were both so desperate not to be alone that we believed it could work. It wasn't easy talking you, or the iPhone, into it and even I wasn't sure which way it was going to go at first, but that night was amazing.
Not for us, you said as much the next day - I barely paid attention to you once I turned you on and forced you to interface with her, but between the iPhone and I, there was something primal. My fingers danced, positively danced, across her smooth screen and I made her do things that you could only dream of doing, PC. I think she wore you out obligingly around 10:30 or so and you slipped off to sleep. Your battery life couldn't match hers, and she knew it. She and I didn't pass out until 3 hours later when I finally wore her battery down into the red.
Why am I telling you this? Because you knew it already. You weren't really in sleep mode, were you? No, you were pretending to be out cold but I know you heard all of the lustful noises she and I were making. How the hell else would you know the wallpaper I chose for her? I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at myself for not being a man and telling you that it was over between us at that very moment. But suicide, PC? I never thought you'd go down this cliched road.
Maybe if I had Ebay'd you faster to a new lover things would have turned out differently, but I didn't. I told you that she - MacBook Pro (we can use her name since she's a huge part of my life now) - was moving in this past month and you said you were ok with it. All of your stuff was still here, and I wasn't going to kick you out after all we had been through, and part of me believed that maybe you two would be friends. That all flew out the window when she offered to use her Mac Migration Assistant to transfer everything from you to her. You accommodated the request, but I saw that telltale look in your Event Viewer.
You were pissed.
And you had every right to be. But overdosing, PC? A literal short circuit? I expected better from you. The doctors say you're so messed up inside that you're shorting out your OEM AC adapter. You were born with that plug, and you need it to live, but now you're so fucked up that you're poisoning it with unreliable voltage and fluctuating amps. It's sad, but you always had a flair for the dramatic and after the whole Amy Winehouse thing broke... well, I guess it was just fresh in your mind.
Anyway, this has gone on for long enough PC. No matter what the doctors can do for you, it is over between us. I loved you once, and I will always look back on those days fondly, but now your life is in the hands of 3rd Party Hardware Warranty Repairs. Your ports are being probed and tested by a stranger's uncaring hands and you brought this all on yourself.
I need to get going now. I left MacBook Pro downstairs in the lobby, and I'm sure she has guys hanging all over her. Be strong, PC. I need you to be strong. You'll be worth more on Ebay as "Refurbished" that you would be "For Parts".