Brave Little Toasters-Kate Sommer

I'm a laptop. Everyday my buttons are pressed. Literally. Some days more than others. Sometimes I spend my whole day closed up, sitting on a little black ottoman in a pink room with Christmas lights hanging year round. Other times, like now, I'm used all day. My lights constantly on, music playing through my speakers, multiple tabs open on my browser. Sometimes when she uses me she's angry. She smashes at my keys with tears streaming down her face and words flowing onto the screen because I'm her only relief, her only confidant. Sometimes she's happy, laughing at the videos playing on my screen, smiling at the pictures of her favorite bands, or showing something to her best friend. I'm the only one that sees every side of her, the sides she doesn't show at school or in public. I'm the only one who knows all her secrets. And I'll always keep them behind my password request screen.