Dear long lost water bottle,
Words can’t begin to describe how incredibly sorry we are that we forgot you in lecture the other day. We ran back to class as soon as we realized that half of our heart was missing. Trash cans were hurdled and flyers were rejected. It shames us to say that we even stiff-armed when approaching acquaintances as we rushed across to campus to reunite with you.
The hollowness that we felt once we realized you’d been taken away from where we left you were similar to that of checking our most recent midterm score. The thought of you scared and alone somewhere in Dwinelle Hall haunts our nightmares. We’re negligent parents who don’t deserve the privilege of being your guardian. We can’t imagine anything in our lives that’s more important than assuring your safety in this cruel world.
Yet, we somehow managed to foolishly let you go. We’ll likely never recover from this massive L, as every Hydro Hlask we see sends a remorseful pang through our hearts. A reminder of what once was. Please forgive us for being literal losers.
We were riddled with angst for weeks following our premature divorce. We approached at least five different strangers with similar water bottles to ask to see their beloved babies. We clutched their lousy water receptacles to our broken hearts to see if it was possible they had mistaken our child for theirs. But, alas, no such luck.
Through the good times and bad, you’ve always been there as a pillar of support to keep us hydrated and prepared for whatever life may throw at us. When we worked out that one time last year, you were there to make sure that we were full of enough fluids to complete the one and only set of exercise we bothered to do. When we needed an excuse to leave discussion every day, you had our backs with the need to be refilled. It was you who saved us from a severe hangover when we went a little too hard on a Friday night.
Rest in peace, our beloved old pal. Our time together was far too short. Gone, but never forgotten.
Half a heart