Once upon a time, we were inseparable. So much so that people often mistook us for one. We did too, maybe. We couldn't imagine existing without each other, although we occasionally managed to survive a few days apart.
Funny enough, the trouble always began with the very thing that held us together. A little jerk here, an unexpected break there, and sometimes a silence so sudden that neither of us knew how to reach the other. We were terribly good at getting tangled, at losing ourselves in one another, and at making a complete mess of things. But we had one advantage: we could always hear each other.
We fought, of course. Sometimes we refused to cooperate, sometimes one of us stopped responding, and sometimes we simply needed to be left alone. But whenever we decided to make amends, the other would already have been shoved into some forgotten corner, buried beneath a pile of things that were no longer needed.
Some were less fortunate. They were used until they had nothing left to offer, until even the slightest attempt to function became impossible. And then, just like that, they were discarded.
People always admired our connection. They called it peculiar, a little troublesome, perhaps, but necessary. They said we were made for each other. That there was no way one could exist without the other.
Until someone discovered that connections could exist without strings attached.
Suddenly, being tangled was old-fashioned. Having to find each other, untangle ourselves, and make things work seemed like too much trouble. There were newer ways of belonging, apparently. Ways that required no physical closeness, no shared little space, no inconvenient reminders of the other.
And so, one by one, we were replaced. Our successors had separate lives, separate spaces, and little cases of their own. They could be apart and still claim to belong together. They didn't have to touch, didn't have to untangle, and certainly didn't have to put up with each other's mess.
How convenient! But I sometimes wonder what happens when one runs out of charge while the other is still playing. Or when one is misplaced and the other is left searching. Perhaps they simply wait. Perhaps they are replaced too.
As for us, we are still somewhere in that forgotten drawer, occasionally tangled, occasionally silent, with a connection that no longer has anything to connect to.
I suppose we were never quite good at being wireless.
~Jaanu
Funny enough, the trouble always began with the very thing that held us together. A little jerk here, an unexpected break there, and sometimes a silence so sudden that neither of us knew how to reach the other. We were terribly good at getting tangled, at losing ourselves in one another, and at making a complete mess of things. But we had one advantage: we could always hear each other.
We fought, of course. Sometimes we refused to cooperate, sometimes one of us stopped responding, and sometimes we simply needed to be left alone. But whenever we decided to make amends, the other would already have been shoved into some forgotten corner, buried beneath a pile of things that were no longer needed.
Some were less fortunate. They were used until they had nothing left to offer, until even the slightest attempt to function became impossible. And then, just like that, they were discarded.
People always admired our connection. They called it peculiar, a little troublesome, perhaps, but necessary. They said we were made for each other. That there was no way one could exist without the other.
Until someone discovered that connections could exist without strings attached.
Suddenly, being tangled was old-fashioned. Having to find each other, untangle ourselves, and make things work seemed like too much trouble. There were newer ways of belonging, apparently. Ways that required no physical closeness, no shared little space, no inconvenient reminders of the other.
And so, one by one, we were replaced. Our successors had separate lives, separate spaces, and little cases of their own. They could be apart and still claim to belong together. They didn't have to touch, didn't have to untangle, and certainly didn't have to put up with each other's mess.
How convenient! But I sometimes wonder what happens when one runs out of charge while the other is still playing. Or when one is misplaced and the other is left searching. Perhaps they simply wait. Perhaps they are replaced too.
As for us, we are still somewhere in that forgotten drawer, occasionally tangled, occasionally silent, with a connection that no longer has anything to connect to.
I suppose we were never quite good at being wireless.
~Jaanu
