[Our POV pieces are based on the fictional accounts and direct Points Of View from the subject, or subjects in the matter. Just for off the cuff entertainment. And for fun.]
Maybe it was because it was time. Or the fact that she’d been replaced by a stronger, faster, YOUNGER version of herself. One does tend to contemplate the usefulness of themselves once they become ‘over the hill.’
She used to be the talk of the town. Everyone wanted to be around her. Others wanted to BE her. Even a few couldn’t stand the site of her. Wonderment, envy, and jealousy prevailed. It was typical for someone of her stature, her charisma, her build. Some felt as if they’d found their every happiness when they finally were privileged enough to be graced by her presence.
Time passed and all was good. Everyone was enjoying their time with her gracefulness, her technical prowess. Others similar to her boasted better this, and more powerful that, but her biggest fans continued their praise and love for her never wavered.
Then came more talk of yet again, more this and better that. But it wasn’t from her competitors. This chatter was coming from the only source that could only ever make her wince. Could it be? Was she going to be ousted by a newer, faster, more enragingly beautiful version of who she is and was? Thus is the fate of all things. To be replaced by a sleeker, shinier, overall more sophisticated PYT, or Pretty Young Thing, as Michael Jackson boldly put it.
She started second guessing herself, “am I not good enough? Aren’t I doing my job well? Don’t I fulfill all of your needs, and then some?” She was stuck rationalizing her dilemma for a short time. She did though come to a concision, as do we all at this particular juncture in our own lives that, it’s just a part of life, or more directly, it was a part of the show. Some call it a Dog and Pony show. But to her it was something more. It was the meaning of her existence. Now some hot piece of ass was about to step all over her success. The only thing to do was to accept the situation and move on.
And move on she did. Once the PYT came rolling along she was no longer the highlight of everyone’s day. She’d been thrust into the shadow of the rookie. Dwelling beneath the surface, she chose solitude. Or well, solitude was chosen for her. No more spotlights. No more glitz, glamour, or flashing bulbs. Just aloneness. Being relegated to the damp, dusty corner wasn’t easy for her. She started developing anxiety over lack of use. All her symptoms went unnoticed and she was the only one left to deal with her decrepitude. No one took care of her the way she used to be pampered, caressed, and held lovingly.
Old age finally started taking its toll on her. Crows feet were nothing compared to the cracks around her once smooth facade, exposing her numerical candle, the flame licking the last of her quiet existence. She was silent, waiting for father time to take her to her final resting place, where she will rest for good.
The remains of her body were found intact, save for her chest area where it lay open, as if someone had taken her heart out from its place, making the figurative saying, “broken hearted” feel more literal than usual. It can be surmised then that she literally died of a broken heart.
Life happens. We live it. Then we live it vicariously through the eyes of other, newer creatures. Sometimes those creatures are the evolved versions of ourselves who are poised to take over the lives we used to have. Then we are either missed or miss just being.
Goodbye, my iPhone 3GS.