Your Phone Exists With or Without You

I've started staring at my phone.  Just staring at it.  It doesn't need to do anything.  It doesn't need to ring or vibrate or shine or sparkle or smile or reach out and give me a high five. A sweet soul affirming, self-consciousness defeating high five.  No, I just stare at it and it has become the object of my visual fancy. It is a liar too.  It tells me things that aren't true.  It pretends it's something else.  It demands so much discernment.  And it brings me people and things I don't want to deal with, to talk to, to talk about.  I have a folder on my phone (that liar, trying to fool me into thinking it has a folder for me) called Outside.  In Outside I have a few weather applications and a few surf report applications.  These things, while not my phone, also lie to me.  Or they tell me the truth and I disbelieve them.  Fucking liars.  Last night it said this morning would be "good."  Or really, "green." Green means good.  I believed it, sort of, as I always do.  Falling for the trap, I'm such an idiot. Brandon spent the night in anticipation of a 4:30 AM start time.  Then he woke up at 2 AM (that is, my phone said it was 2 AM) with terrible, breathe-retarding allergies and split back to his own place to rest in private. My phone then slapped me in the face at the appointed morning time and I nearly woke up.  But I took that goddamn phone and put it under a pillow on the floor and went back to sleep.  It said it would be "green" this morning, but all I got was "blue" and I think it has lied to me again.  I'm staring at it now.