Dear Diary. . . /A Testimony/

I’m almost certain you witnessed my heart break alongside my phone screen sometime last year.

On that fateful morning,I was all dressed for school,resplendent in a formal attire and quite ready to turn heads.

I can remember the details of my outfit. It was an ash skirt with a thigh slit and a soft cotton shirt with lace details around it’s shoulders. My figure made a pretty picture and boyyyy,was I ready to put it on display all day. After one last lusty look in the mirror I picked up my bag and my phone with slippery hands and walked to the door. The very moment I pulled the door handle,my poor phone slipped and fell. The sound of my screen cracking made a painful echo in my heart. If my phone had feelings,I’m sure my heart would have interpreted it perfectly.

And thus began my frustration. . . Or at least one of it.

The crack in my heart was a little difficult to heal. I can’t even lie about that. And the crack on the phone. . . Well,that’s a totally different story altogether. I got to school that day moody and totally oblivious of heads that might be getting dislodged.The beauty of my figure suddenly became an abstract thought.A very distant reality. It hurt to see the unwanted patterns the cracks had drawn. They looked like art. . . Yes. Long lines spread like vines with tiny branches. I could swear they grew leaves too. Art is a representation of feelings,yes? Well, it’s safe to say those cracks created a perfect replica of my anger.

My first call for help was to my mum.I wanted a new phone and I wanted it immediately.My mind simply couldn’t come to terms with the reality of using a cracked screen.I didn’t want to think about it.I didn’t want to accept it.Not me.It looked ugly and I don’t do ugly,at least not until that moment.

The reply I received had me ranting on Twitter for days and actively participating in giveaways I would never win.Over time I discovered the situation might not be as horrible as I painted it. I taught myself to ignore the ironical beauty of the vines and branches so delicately drawn on my screen. Over time I discovered how easy it is to teach oneself the art of denial. The art of ignoring painfully obvious facts. That took less than a month. Why not? I had to live with what I felt was a harsh reality. The fact that others had cracked screens too wasn’t my business.I simply believed mine didn’t have to be cracked.

Two months later I could swear my screen probably didn’t crack.I could swear it was probably just a figment of my imagination.

Don’t get me wrong.The reality did creep in once in a while.It danced in my consciousness like a dainty flower flirting with the wind on days when I’d lose focus of the content of my phone and stare at the phone instead. And just when my lips would form a pout or my anger threaten it’s lids,I’d remember to file it away like a trivial document.That was my avoidant culture for months and months on end.I’d casually bring up the topic of a new phone in merry conversations and I’ll get fleeting promises. . . As usual.

The situation changed sometime in December.The poor phone had taken to decorating it’s precious cracks with ink,making it a teensy bit difficult to see important details beyond the unwanted stems and branches. You know,my phone was probably trying to recreate the Mona Lisa. . . Or maybe not. But then,all art is art, yes? . . . Absolutely Not!

The ink aside,I’ve lost count of the number of times my phone attempted suicide.I got quite irritated with it’s incessant desire to hang. Should I mention it’s toxic relationship with ghosts? Why else would it be operating itself? In hindsight,it is quite possible that my old phone was going through some kind of phase. Past trauma? The entire dramatic fall and the recreation of the Humpty Dumpty tale? That is the only possible explanation for it’s constant attempt at suicide.But then,it’s relationship with a ghost? I honestly can’t give a solid statement on that.

This month however,I decided that enough actually has to be enough.I was tired.I was angry.I was determined.A very healthy combo I must say,when you’ve finally decided you want to move forward. I prayed again for a phone.I prayed again and again. . . And again.The heavens seemed a little heavy and it felt like my prayers clung to my ceiling, blatantly refusing break through.God seemed a little far away.

Tired of the usual,I chose a different tactic.I chose faith but in a different form.Years ago I was taught a lesson on faith.I had no idea it stuck.I had no idea I’d still remember.But I did.And I’m grateful I did.

. . . I was done praying.I chose gratitude instead.It’s important that I tell you it was difficult.

It was difficult to thank God for something that seemed almost impossible at the moment.It was difficult to thank God for something that’d cost a lot,especially in the middle of January.The infamous January.But I did.I went straight to Twitter and thanked God for a new phone and laptop.I thanked Him like I already had them in hand.It was a simple tweet but it garnered a bit of attention.The attention I needed.

After that,I took the tweet to God. Not traditionally.You know,the whole kneeling down and praying the roof down with tongues.No.I prayed in my heart.Then I asked God if He’d let His name be attached to a lie.

It was all fun and games till the phone fell flat on its screen. . . Again.

As I picked it up I remembered my prayer but at that moment my faith wasn’t as strong as the tears threatening to flow in torrents.I made my first call.I called my mum. And by the time I was on my third call for help,the tears carried out their threats.

I was hopeless for a minute or two. Alright, alright. An entire day. I felt disconnected from the real world.Quite honestly,despite group chats being my only loyal chat partners,a good percentage of my social life was centered in my phone.In that moment,being introverted seemed a lot like a curse.

Sounds like a miracle -it was- but on the second day,I and a beautiful friend somehow raised 25% of the funds needed for a new phone.My aunt’s words were on repeat through the entire process. She said “A new phone will come o,but don’t expect it to come now now. This is January.”

I wasn’t having it. A new phone WOULD come now now. I wasn’t interested in settling. Not again.

Almost a week later 75% of the targeted budget was available. In truth,with the budget in mind at that moment,100% WAS available. . . Until I got to the market.

The market wasn’t all smiles and sunshine.The prices weren’t exactly synonymous with affordable.My budget seemed a little like child’s play.

Was I frustrated? Yes.

Did I come back with a phone I wanted? Yes.

Was it above budget? Yes.

And this. . . This is my testimony.