A Cracked Phone Screen = a Basement Apartment

Remember when I cracked my cell screen weeks ago?

The cracks are tough to photograph, but the one bottom left was so deep I slit my thumb open, and the glass was so crumbled around the home button I must’ve eaten a ton of glass.

In the 17 years I’ve had a cell, this was the 1st time I broke my screen, meaning, I finally experienced what I’ve watched for years – pull out a busted phone, and use it.

And no. Just nope no and no.

It negatively affected my mind – the thing I touch and use more than anything, all sub-par and broken.

It’s like going home at the end of a day and descending into a sub-terrainian apartment… to a dark space, with tiny windows, at the top of a low ceiling, and settling into the sounds of someone walking on your head all night.

These little things – dark, broken, negative, beneath – greatly pull down a mind, making it more difficult to maintain a positive and expanding imagination.

I get that sometimes things are tight and it’s tough to afford to move or fix the screen immediately, I don’t get letting the situation continue for an extended period of time. Time is our only renewable resource.

It’s like a car – if it’s not affordable to insure and maintain, it’s probably out of the budget in the first place.

 

 

 

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