A part of me died....

... It feels that way, at least.

Now, before you start asking funny questions, I'd better tell you the whole story.

This morning my phone drowned in a mug of water beside my bed.

The phone slipped through my (butter)fingers as I picked it up. It then proceeded to drop - quite neatly - into the mug of water with a soft *splosh*. It took me only a micro-second for the realisation to hit me... I frantically got the phone out, and dried it as best i could with my towel.... but to no avail. By then, I could see the phone screen go all deathly-white (I kid you not), with water creeping all across it... the word "nokia" fading, fading, fading....

In that instant, all I could think about was: "What do I have in that phone that is precious to me?" ... Answer: A lot.

I can hear the comments now: "C'mon gurl, it's only a phone, a material thing that is replaceable."... Nope. To me it ain't.

It's not so much the phone numbers - I think a lot of them are stored in my sim card anyway. It's more of the other stuff that my swankier phone allowed me to have... Like pictures taken that can never be replaced, capturing moments that would possibly never be recreated again, and now can only be stored and relived in the crevices of my mind. Like smses (a few hundred in my inbox alone) conveying to me precious thoughts and words of encouragement from family and friends, both near and far. And songs that had soothed me time and again; been the balm to my swirling emotions.

Those who know me well also know that I am terribly phone-bound. Can't go anywhere without it. It's my lifeline to my network of friends, family, even clients. Come to think of it, I can live without the Internet for days, but not my phone. So losing it in such a careless, flippant manner is just... plain... stupid.

*sigh* So now how?

At this point in time, my phone is in the clinic, and I should be able to get it back in about a week or two. Meanwhile I'm relying on my old faithful to enable me call and sms. So far it's alright.

At the back of my mind, I wonder (read: overanalyse) why this happened. Was it time for me to let go of memories I held dear? Was it to force me to realise the reality of TODAY rather than dwell on the past? Or, hah, was it to teach me to finish drinking my mug of water every night before I went to bed?

I don't know. I just don't know. Memories can't be erased this easily. Some pictures will always be in my head, and heart. But I guess it is the first step... To what, I'm not sure.