Dear blackberry,
I wasn't going to write this letter, but today i've woken up so annoyed at the horrific timing (I have applied to loads of jobs recently, and am leaving the country for a short trip on Monday) that *another* one of you has chosen to die … So this is what I need to say … And it is said in the spirit of one who respected you.
It is in fact the case that your potential talents have been obscured by faulty hardware. I have looked past this in the past, for one major reason: I love keys. I like writing on phones: texts, emails, poems, I even composed parts of my dissertation on a phone. I never liked or was convinced by writing on touch screens.
Your manufacturers don't give a shit about you, or any of us. You will end up on a scrap heap while 'they' will be sunning themselves on their yachts in Antigua, which they bought by selling your body and you will find yourself very alone. All the more true when you unwittingly give the impression you don't give much of a fuck about yourself. No one who cares about you could support your being pimped … and that includes you yourself.
Yes, I'm suggesting you don't care for yourself. That has to change. When we met You were initially awkward, but became amazing. I put in the work, I was patient in learning your completely non intuitive interface. Now after FOUR MONTHS you just decide I don't need certain keys anymore. That the letter x and number 8 were superfluous. It will take 3 weeks to fix, at a very bad time for me to not have a phone. Fuck you.
For the last few years, as almost everyone I know has joined the cult of iPhone, I have abstained and defended you. After the second phone this has happened to, I am finally done. You have failed me. Whether I like it or not, I have to finally admit that you are a faulty inferior joke. And an expensive one. As much as it pains me to say this, I am finally going to get an iPhone.
Regards,
Paula Varjack
Ps. I am sorry it had to end like this, but it's not me, it's you...
