My phone finally broke. After the glass cracked, I started treating it worse and worse- the last few weeks I had spent neurotically picking at the glass like a scab. But now after a relatively inconsequential fall of the bed, it finally gave up on me. It was about time for that thing to go and with it, every message I'd made a point of saving. It was probably for the best. I haven't gone back to look at them in a while, but from what I remember, most of them were either one of two things: terse exchanges of facts, addresses, and times or a pathetic shit-show. I'm deeply embarrassed by the latter. The petty arguments and desperate pleadings from my end. Like I said, it's probably for the best those get buried. But still, part of me will miss them. I'd saved them for a reason. Because one day I planned to scroll back. I'd look at the pictures, the long winded good mornings and good nights, the finger drawings, and I wouldn't feel bad. I'd smile at all the effort I put in to a text bubble and I could finally say I've moved on. I'm worried now that day will never come, but maybe, now that those memories are just a corrupted stream of data, I can finally move forward. 

Yeah right.