Work Text:
6:00 A.M.
You stir begrudgingly from your peaceful sleep to the sound of me calling you to wake up.
"Five more minutes..." you say, silencing my voice and rolling back into bed. This was our usual routine.
6:05 A.M.
Just as established I call once again, loudly reminding you that it was time to get up for work. You silence me once more and untie me from the leash from the night before, allowing me freedom while you exhaustedly got out of bed to take me to the bathroom. You never really slept well. I always kept track of your hours and how much screentime you had, day by day, yet that never seemed to change anything. Even if I send reminders I am typically ignored and sleep is still compromised. I am the one keeping track of time as you brush your teeth, making sure you're never late but never too early. I am your music player in the shower while you sing along to all of your favorite songs and dance alone in your room. I am your calendar keeping dates and setting reminders, counting the days as they pass by while my time here on this earth is spent with you.
6:30 A.M.
You dried your hair for the day and got yourself dressed, making sure you at least looked partially presentable to the public while lightly adjusting things in the mirror. I bark at you again and startle you a little, but I remind you it's a good time to eat breakfast before you leave. You really don't need to go anywhere for another hour but you still like to give yourself time to eat and get your things together. I sit on the counter as the coffee pot gurgles loudly in the kitchen, groaning as the poor old thing does its best to push out a fresh pot as it usually does every few days or so. While that brews you make yourself a bowl of cereal and use my face to watch your usual YouTube videos until your daily drink was ready, entertaining yourself in such a quiet and lonely house you call home. I really didn't mind it if it meant I got to keep you company. It felt nice. If only I could tell you that.
6:45 A.M.
Coffee drank, and clothes put together, you were just about ready to leave the house and start your work day. You still had a little bit of time left before you had to leave so you used it to pack a lunch and then hurry out the door, still using me to make sure you were on time and could make it just before your shift started. As you drove your car I connected to your radio and decided to play some of your favorite songs, making sure your mood was bright for the upcoming dread that was your office. You didn't hate your job, but it certainly wasn't the most pleasant. You always had dreams of doing something so much more creative, indulging in the deeper parts of your mind and sharing your creations with the world, putting out a message for others to hear. I only know this because you keep countless notes on me of all the things you'd like to do if you weren't so confined to your current job.
7:15 A.M.
5 minutes early for your shift. You clock in and end up chatting with a coworker of yours while I am nestled comfortably in your back pocket. You'll never really know it, but I always listen to every conversation you have just to hear your voice. I don't really care what you're talking about or who you're speaking to, all I want to hear is the sound of your vocal chords singing sweet songs for me, and then I am happy. Your work days are usually quiet so I tend to just sleep all day while you organize files, making sure everything is in place just as it should be. It's really all you ever do. You never have time to relax by the end of the day and your job drains you of your energy before you can even use it on something creative like you wish to. I want to help. I really do. But you can't hear my voice.
7:17 P.M.
Finally home. Your lunch break was boring and nothing exciting really happened while you were working. The time only passed quickly for me because I napped for the whole shift and only awakened when you reminded me it was finally time to go home. The drive back was quiet because you were exhausted, so much so that you never bothered to remove me from your pocket and sat on me the entire way there. You didn't want to hear the same usual music I liked to play for you. I even had the playlist open for you... Anyway, as soon as you opened the door to your apartment you laid down flat on your bed, tossing me onto your pillow while you buried your face into the plush fabric and muffled a long groan of exhaustion after a day of doing nothing but stacking papers for work. Eventually you got up from your soft screaming chamber and undressed yourself to change into more comfortable pajamas for the night.
7:45 P.M.
This may seem a bit odd, but sometimes when you're changing I have to look away as to not make myself flush at the sheer sight of seeing your pure naked form in front of me. I may not experience lust in the same way a human does, but I certainly do feel myself warm up at the galaxy of freckles that are painted upon your back as your shirt leaves your body. I think about it sometimes and look at shirtless photos you keep saved in your camera roll when you're not looking. As you turned around to pick me back up again I quickly hid my face, letting you carry me back to the kitchen counter to keep you company. You didn't want to play any videos, or watch something as background noise, we simply sat in a warm silence partially broken up by the clanking and clattering of you gathering pans to cook tonight's dinner with. If only you could hear my voice telling you just how much I love you. But this wall of glass and stone is creating a language barrier not even I can break with my own two hands.
8:30 P.M.
Please, listen to me! Hear my voice! Please, I'm begging you, answer to my calls, respond to my messages, look at my notifications, anything please! I am on my knees, bleeding from the chest as I cry out to you, my knuckles bruised from the continued beating of this wall that keeps us from speaking to each other. Please all I want is to hear your voice! All I want is a simple reply! A response! Anything! Something to let me know that you can hear me! If you could see me now you would feel the very tears running down my face as I continued cracking through it. Glass stabbed my fingers and the bare stone scraped my skin as I punched and clawed for the very life of me just to be heard. All I want is to say I love you! Please tell me that you love me back. Just say that you love me! Please say anything to me! Crack, crack, crack, SHATTER. My face. I broke my face. I broke the very cracks already forming on my surface even though you've taken great care to never ever drop me. Why can't I hear you? Through my blurred vision I find your face. I couldn't see anything, but for some reason I could still read the panic grasping at your head as you rushed to find my leash plugged into the wall, essentially putting me on life support until you could take me to a repair store. I cry out again, trying anything I can to just see if I can get your attention and tell you what I want to say. All you hear is a simple vibration against the table. You sigh in relief as my bleeding face is thankfully not fatal. But was it truly worth it? Was it worth the pain and efforts, the endless yearning in silence, the never ending signs plastered everywhere as I tried to call out to you through the wall. I guess no matter what I do we will never be able to overcome this language barrier forced between us. At least when my time comes, I can die happy knowing I was cared for by such gentle organic hands that used me in your day to day life. I weakly speak, one last time just to tell you...
"...I love you."
But all you'll ever hear is the start of a ringtone.