Trashed On The Street


Dear Frank,

To say I am shocked by your actions is an understatement. We’ve been together for fifteen years and this is how you treat me? I made you happy for so long and now you’re just going to leave me here on the street with a sign plastered to my body that says, “working” like I’m some kind of object that doesn’t deserve a penny’s worth of respect. You’ve left me vulnerable to any Tom, Dick or Tyler who wants to take me home and do God knows what to me. You’ve taken away all of my dignity by leaving me on this scarlet curb. You’ve made it clear to the world that my existence, my very purpose is worth NOTHING!

I was young when we first met. Too young to understand what you wanted. You were my first. I remember the day you laid eyes on me. I could tell that you wanted me so bad. You kept looking me up and down. You ran your hands all over my body and within a matter of twenty minutes, I was in your arms. You moved me into your home. Out of all the models I was sitting next to, you chose me. I felt so special.

You used to call me your “baby.” I was yours and you were mine. I let you do whatever you wanted to me. Through all the different positions you put me in over the years, I was still able to be turned on. Even when you’d stay out late, there I sat, faithfully waiting for you to come home each and every night. You never let me sleep because you were too scared to be alone in the dark with your thoughts. You could have let me rest. I gave you that option, but instead I was forced to constantly entertain. I entertained your dog so he wouldn’t feel lonely while you were at work. I entertained your friends and sometimes even strangers you had just met. You even let them touch me. Despite all of this, I worked hard for you. I had no other choice. It was my purpose in life.

As I sit here on the street, I realize that all my hard work and loyalty wasn’t enough for you. It hurt me to my coils when I heard you tell your friend Bobby that you needed a “change.” It’s because you think I’m fat isn’t it? Well I’m not. I proudly come from a generation of models that weren’t expected to be “ultra slim.”  We were celebrated for having a little junk in the trunk. I thought you were an individual, but it turns out, you’re a sheep! You’ve decided to follow the herd and give into a society that rewards the young and throws away the old. I can see through the window that some flat ass model has taken my place. Sadly, that’s not even the worst part. The worst part of this breakup is that you didn’t even have the decency to walk me out. Instead you had your friend carry me out while you hung your new “toy” on the wall like a trophy.

Unfortunately for you, she’ll never be able to satisfy you like I did. They don’t make us like they used to. These new models are all looks and no substance. She’s just a pretty face with a thin body, but she’s ugly and already breaking on the inside. In no time at all, she’ll burn out and you’ll be forced to replace her with a newer model and so on and so on. You’ve made a horrible choice and now you will pay for it. These models will leave you in an instance, but not before they’ve emptied your wallet. Then you’ll be left alone staring at a blank face that you can no longer turn on. And frankly, I don’t give a damn.

I hope you go blind,

1999 JVC TV

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