ode to my laptop
My laptop charger finally broke after several years of daily use. I couldn't put off replacing it anymore because my assignments are getting more and more urgent, so I finally went and got a new one.
The guy at the first store I went to (the official store) was absolutely fascinated by my old, evidently worn laptop. Looking at it with fresh eyes, what did he see? An old model I didn't remember to clean before going out, so outdated that he had to send me to a third party shop because manufacturers didn't even use the type of charger I needed anymore. You used it well, really got your money's worth out of it.
I've had it since high school, a pre-pandemic gift from my parents that I got after my brother noticed that my old one wasn't keeping up with me anymore. It's got tons of scratches on the bottom from my high school's rough stone tables, more scratches on the lid from being smuggled into class in my binder, and stickers from various interests I fall back into every now and then.
It's way heavier than the current models sold in shops. The finish on the trackpad started chipping away at some point during college, and it's got a few dead pixels already. I know I have to replace it sooner or later, but I'm kind of dreading that day. At this point, it feels like an extension of me.
I don't really know where this is going, and it's kind of funny to type so much about my laptop on my laptop. After all the projects we've worked on together, it deserves to have something written about it, too.
(Maybe I'm too sentimental about my things. Ah, who cares?)