Dennis.

Dennis. My lovely little blue phone. That I got about a little more than a year ago, give a little more time. The one with the name written on the back in brown Sharpie. And has the fish stickers that I got from Alex last year in Photography class. I named him after the guitarist of Flogging Molly (Dennis Casey). The name was already cool beforehand because of Monty Python ("Kneel." "Dennis!"). And he might be dead. Forever. And it’s my fault too. I am so sad. And now depressed. I swear I must have some very strange like attachment issues. I wouldn't necessarily consider myself an emotional person, but I guess I'm "sensitive" (I mean I love animals and all and I have a zero tolerance rate for any kind of gore. And I cry at Edward Scissorhands every single freaking time) and I get attached to things at times, especially when I name them and pretty much call them my own. And now Dennis might be dead. And I'm not ready for him to die. If I have to get a replacement, I don't think I could rename it anything else, so I might have to call it "Dennis the II" or Dennis for short. But I won't know until I go to the store tomorrow. Still sad.

(NOTE: cross-posted to my lifejournal, but that might not be relivent information. if so, ignore said info)