i don't want a new one, i want this one.

i don't think it's working right, so i shake it and thump it and leave it alone for a bit. i inspect the insides and try to put it back together the way it was, remembering what fit where. i plug it in and unplug it again, eating my words. fuck. i shake it again and pound until the rattling stops. i grow angry and cold, refusing to speak to it. i turn my back. i look over my shoulder, and it's still not working right. i turn it and flip it, and i try a new perspective. i don't want to go get a new one. i think i've got love to blame. so i'll just be without it.