Confession of an Immoral Act

I feel unclean, soiled and grimy right down to the base of my soul.  I am sorry my love. My act was completely reprehensible.  I cannot forgive myself, and therefore, cannot beg you to forgive me.   I cheated on you, my partner, my eldest companion.  You won’t understand, and for that, I cannot blame you.  Once upon a time I took an oath that I would never forsake you, that I would never choose another medium, but reality intervened leaving me little choice.  While others viewed you as old, outdated and soon to be a relic in a museum, I relished your natural beauty, the way you felt in my hands, your scent when I closed my eyes and rested my head on your body.  But the universe is moving forward, running rapidly into the future, making it difficult to remain faithful.  

It’s the money – I’m sorry.  It always is about the money.  Isn’t it?  What we can afford verses what we cannot. Money and stress.  If it weren’t for this new commitment, a potential opportunity to break from the routine of my life, I never would have done it.  But face it, you are bulky and expensive.  While I could once afford your pleasures – talking long walks with no one other than you; curling up on a couch, gripping you in a tight embrace unable to let go or even consider sleep; eating with you by my side as you filled me with knowledge and excitement – I now have others to consider.

But just because she was convenient, less expensive and required less waiting time, does not mean I enjoyed her.  I didn’t.  She was miserable, unnatural.  It was difficult, the cold, hard metal felt awkward in my hands.  I desperately missed the softness of your touch.  Sure, there were times you cut me deeply when I turned a page, but it was never intentional, and often due to my own carelessness.  And what made the situation worse was the constant comparison between you and her.  I tried, but stopping was impossible.  My every thought was consumed by how preferable you are in so many ways.  The rain for one.  Sure you don’t like getting wet, but what’s a pound or two among friends.  Water would just expand your waist, enhanced your thickness, but it never killed you.  Rain clouds suddenly became much more ominous, for a downpour would certainly have killed or severely damaged her.  The sun.  With you, a pair of sunglasses and maybe a hat with a brim was all I needed to block the glare, but with her, the glare was brutally hostile.  My head ached and my eyes watered.  The concrete.  How many times have I dropped you? You always bounced – a few scratches maybe, a bit of dirt.  But she would inevitably crack, so much more fragile than you ever were.  And finally, stamina.  Your energy is endless, you can go all night.  Her battery is continuously running low. She constantly needs a break to get recharged. Oh how I missed you, I need you and if you will let me, tonight, when I go to bed, it is you I wish to bring with me. That Kindle app and tablet mean nothing to me – nothing at all.