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You came in a small box, a few days before I expected you, looking expensive, compact, wearable, simple yet already complex, ready to be held, jacketed, pocketed, all mine. Nothing too elaborate, your unique connection, your critical point, which has a secret link to the rest of me, so much so that it sometimes surprises me.

I want to live with you, I want you to help me to be a better person, to be more useful, to do things more efficiently, to quantify my progress. Help me prioritize and not to over or under-estimate the time I have.

However, you leave me craving for more, each day. I need more from you, more data. I need you to keep me dissatisfied, just to keep going. Tell me, give me more hurdles, tell me how good or bad I am, so I can relax or suffer in my oneness.

Separate this body from this mind, give me numbers and graphs for me to spend time interpreting, only to have more intense joy when we meet again and do things together. You take me away from myself, and then place me in a room with no way out, a prison of self consciousness.

I need you all to myself, hoard the data, then I hate you and want to be left alone. You limit me, you stimulate me, you imprison. Sure you can help plan a better life, improve, but who has to review you, me? I do and you go on scot-free, just logging. I have to choose the relevant, I’m the one who has to categorize.

Help me to be objective about my subjectivity. Give me a greater sense of control, then let me argue with myself. Make me feel how much I do, every day.

I didn’t know I did that. I forgot I did the other thing. You’re there, except when you need charging and then fade, or when wet, or lost, and I soften. What we’re both missing when we’re not together! How can I imagine the future without your presence to remind me about the past?

Passion for you, and lucidity of data. Integrate me, my life, integrate my feelings. Help me to deal with the trials, corruptions of life, help me survive and be morally strong. When I lend you, or talk about you, boost my self-esteem. But most of all, help me to understand the mystery of body and mind, lovely logger of mine.

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