Dear iPod Mini,
You have been a loyal servant of mine for over 3 years now and we have been through a lot. Especially you. You have the scars to prove it. I used to change your batteries when you were little and it pains me to say goodbye to you like this, although I’m doing it after having tried everything in my power to save you.
Even last night at the E.R., as you were fighting for your life, you bravely managed to play back one song, giving me that last bit of hope that our days together were not yet over. Even as your clickwheel was acting funny and you were randomly rebooting, I could feel your struggle and determination to please. I managed to bring you home from the hospital, and there, you once more called out in vain for Apple support before shutting down and going peacefully into the night.
No amount of soldering will bring you back now. Why? Why, oh why must I now give Steve Jobs more of my hard earned cash just to replace you with a smaller, newer version that plays back video and shuffles songs when you shake it? Life is quiet and empty without you. How dare you leave me like this? How very dare you?