May you rest in peace. I lay the colorful flag of my life over your wooden coffin. Twenty one guns empty their ammunition out to the sea for you. A formally dressed weeping crowd gathers around your hole adorned with white roses. The god of mobile phones and SIM cards shall meet you in heaven.
I lost my phone last night.
The phone was a cheap model of Motorola that is so unheard of I don’t even remember its name myself. But like all things good, it worked well. The voice on the other end sounded very clear unlike other mobile phones I’ve used. The controls were a little complicated, but once I got used to them, everything went fine.
But alas, another lucky taxi driver brought home a new gadget for the kids and the wife. I can already see their frustration though, because they will never be able to sell that cheap-ass unit for more than a grand and I doubt they can even find a charger that fits. The thing is just so old its only game worth playing is a black and white Arkanoid.
To hell with the cell phone, though. The sim is the soul for whom I mourn.
My mom told me this morning I had that sim since I was in high school. But I think it was more like first year college because I still remember myself secretly envying my classmate for playing snake in his 32:10 back in fourth year high school. Back then, sim cards were a freakin’ status symbol because not everybody had a cell phone. My Globe sim card cost a whopping P500. Still not as posh as my brother’s which was priced at a cool P1000.
But my sim, so infrequently loaded with the decent amount, was a friend, a chunk of my identity, and a witness to a large portion of my life.
It saw my first struggles with “texting,” times when it still took me a full 5 minutes to construct a sentence.
It was there when I mastered Snake I and Snake II, and got so good at the game I can make the snake chase its own tail around the sceen in a neverending loop. I know lots of people used to do that awesome trick.
It didn’t cringe when I wrote entries on my phonebook using alternating capitalization and odd symbols — the origins of today’s jejemon phenomenon.
It was the trustworthy confidante who knew the people I replaced on my phonebook simply because there wasn’t enough space to add newer, more important ones. God, it knew how I weighed people.
It contained all the messages that I stored for different reasons. It knew why or how I determined that one joke was better than the other, or why one flirtatious message had more spark than another. My inbox 1 and inbox 2 were like the current pound-for-pound rankings that changed overtime based on who rules my sim. The average and the boring messages never made it to the list, and my sim knew that. You had to be special to secure a place on my sim.
It saw me treasure a text message, or give the world the finger because of a call.
It never made fun of me when I pretended to text in front of elevators because I was too awkward to talk with my officemates.
Never yelled “How the F***k do you live?! You poor, cheap, anti-social F***K?!” even when I continued to starve it with load.
Always sided with me when I deliriously sent insults to my girlfriend during a bloody text fight. I could’ve sworn it even egged me on while massaging my back.
It didn’t vomit at my cheesy lines, my crappy jokes or my inappropriate replies. It didn’t whack me on the head when I fussed over whether to say “I love you” or “I like you” or not through a “pasaload.” It just soundlessly snugged there in the comfy space between the battery and the cellphone’s guts, possibly dreaming of my quirky maturation process.
It didn’t let out a sigh of disappointment when I failed to mature at all.
Eight years of my life were condensed in that simple copper thing some wise folks now collect for traces of gold. Eight years of my life probably in a dust pan right now, lying there helplessly with the dead roaches and the bread crumbs of the day, thrown away by the fat wife of a sweaty taxi driver. “Useless! All the messages are from Chemae Magbual!” she might have said.
If only she knew how important that sim was to me.
You will be sorely missed.
By me, at least.
Please do not haunt me at night even if I replace you with a P20 one with better features.