September 2, 2015
Dear Phone Battery,
Before I express my disappointment, you should know that I consider us close friends. Phones come and go (every two years to be exact), but you truly stick around. With that being said, you tend to be pretty fucking unreliable. I totally hold up my end of this relationship. I charge you every night, give you constant attention, and keep you in the palm of my hands all day. But although I take such good care of you, you continue to test my patience.
You should know that I don’t always feel this frustrated with you. When we leave the house in the morning, you’re off to a good start. Through my Monday resting bitch face Snapchats, multiple orders on my Starbucks app, and quick Tinder checks, you stay strong, leading me to believe that today will be a good day. A few hours of Spotify later, you can’t seem to hold your shit together, and it’s only like 3PM.
Fast forward a few hours and all of a sudden, you’re all red in the face and I’m left sprinting to a charger. All I did was make dinner reservations and stalk like, three Instagram accounts. Are you kidding me? A betch can’t always get to a charger. You always seem to die at the worst possible times. Like, if I’m waiting for my Uber driver to pick me up in the pouring rain, please don’t die on me. If I’m trying to make a phone call to avoid that creep following me home, please don’t die on me. Oh, and don’t you DARE die on me at any point from the pregame to the club. Let’s be real-- a dead phone is a dead girl.
Look, consider this an intervention. I know you have good intentions, but sometimes it’s hard to know where we stand. Until you’re willing to commit to me 100 percent, you’re gonna have to step up your game. Relationships go both ways.