Dear MacBook Hard Drive That Crashed Three Hours Before My Ten Page Paper Was Due,


I'm going to try to remain calm and articulate here, even though deep down I would enjoy nothing more than cracking your screen open with the heel of my bare and bloodied foot.

I'm going to do my best to remain on topic in this letter and not give in to instinctive rage. But don't be fooled, MacBook. I'd like to do nothing more than envision a scene of me throwing your shattered LCD shards and miscellaneous keyboard letters into the bathtub, turning on the water, and speeding out of town in a stolen car.

But cooler heads must prevail, MacBook.

MacBook, you were once loyal to me. You never once misbehaved in the year that we have been good, nay¬ó great friends. You never stuttered nor froze; you always acted quite diligently in the tasks that I assigned to you. You never had any trouble keeping track of my files and running multiple applications at once. We wrote countless word documents together. We edited videos until wee hours in the morning. Who could even begin to count the important trysts we came together for throughout these last several months? I know I surely cannot.

This is why I was of utmost shock to find myself finishing an essay but mere hours from the deadline, a period of time when you have historically been most dependable, only to now find an icon displaying a folder enclosing a blinking question mark laying across the default Macintosh gray. I know not for sure, but I assume this dreary shade can now also be found filling the interior of my soul.

If you wanted to leave, you could have given me notice. Yes, notice would have been polite. That way I could have had the opportunity to store my important documents on my external hard drive. But instead your RAM decided to, in the words of the Shawshank Redemption warden, "up and vanish like a fart in the wind."

Should I already have had my data backed up? Probably. Is that the point? No. No, it is not. You see, I did not write the majority of this paper (the paper that is now gone because you crashed, in case you have since become confused) until the day before it was due. This meant I was unable to store earlier drafts of said essay in its previous, unpolished drafts. I thought nothing of letting you watch after my paper overnight. I thought we had formed a special bond.

The sort of bond that's formed after an exhaustive day of inventing a ten-page paper out of thin air in one thorough, consecutive session.

We will never go back to the same relationship we once had for I can no longer trust you as I once could. I don't wish to spout criticisms I may one day retract, but let's just say I will be spending a lot more time with my 500 gigabyte external hard drive.