It's been 84 hours since we parted. How are you? I am sorry to be so cruel. Leaving you at the counter is the last thing I had in mind to do. But I have to be rational. Since that moment, my heart has not stop aching for you. My heart is slashed into bits and pieces everytime I think about the fate you are going to face. Will you be treated kindly? Will your illness be given attention to? Will you be serving another owner? Will the new owner treat you well? Or will you be torn apart, and functions terminated? My heart bleeds when I have to imagine the last option.
I named your substitute Snow Blood. Not only because of its colour, but it also reflects how dearly you are missed. Snow Blood is nice to me, but you are never replaceable. At least not now. When you are around, I feel being cared for. I miss holding you in my hands. I can still remember your sleekness, your elegance, your beauty, your warmth, you mischief, your deterioration, your helplessness. They are vividly clear. It saddens me to realise that you are unable to accompany me through my uni days which are likely to be akin to the roller coaster ride.
Yesterday and today I suddenly had the urge to call up hello shop to ask them your well-being, but I had to abandon the idea which will be deemed silly. People just don't understand how strongly one can be emotionally attached to something which has been faithfully connecting her to her friends and family and dutifully her inform her of happenings in the world. You were more than a technical gadget to me. When I was scared while walking up the dark quiet slope leading to hostel, you were my safety helpline; When I am lonely among a mass of friends, you were my silent buddy who keeps me occupied; When the bus journey gets too long, you were there to provide minimal entertainment which I much appreciated. Now, you are gone, but I will still care about you, deep in my heart, today, tomorrow, always.
Take care, darling.