This morning, before work and after the gym, I walked past my computer and we played the game we�ve been playing for the last week. I walked past it, and it turned itself on, taunting me with the fact that it has learned this deliciously mind-fucking trick, and stares defiantly at me with the wallpaper that I choose to dress it with just months ago, when we were friends.

Today, however, I paid it no mind. You see, I have already buried my computer in my mind. It�s gone. He�s dead to me. It�s like another one of my relationships. You were fun while you lasted, but you were never my life. I never loved you. When my fingers stroked your keyboard, it meant nothing to me. Do you know how many of them I�ve touched in my lifetime? I�ve known keyboards, and yours wasn�t even close to being the best.

You weren�t so slick, you bastard. Do you know how many times I held back and waited for you to get it up? MS Word that is�Patiently waiting until you were fully loaded and let me tell you, you were NEVER fully loaded. I never bothered using half of my tricks on you, because I knew you weren�t reliable. I knew you weren�t worth it.

And that chip of yours? Save it. It�s pathetic.

You want to keep my shit? Keep it. You can hold my writing hostage in there for under hell freezes over. It�s the only piece of me you�ll ever have again.

You know what, you can have the music too. Let me let you in on something, I only downloaded shit on you, so good luck with that.

Today, I walked past my computer and paid it no heed. I walked instead to the window, and stared outside. As I looked below, I saw a giant prosthetic Strawberry with legs standing on the corner across the street, handing out flyers. Even stranger, was that a face was painted on the Strawberry in such a way that it appeared to be looking directly up at me, with its Strawmouth agape.

I blinked, and I looked at it again, as my wallpaper flashed up on my monitor of its own accord, and the Strawberry seemed beckon to me. It seemed to be a symbol of the freedom I have right now, and all of the delectable things just within my gasp, that I desperately want to taste.

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