To My Dot Matrik Printer

To my dot matrix printer:
First off I would like to apologize. I didn't mean to stop using you. I didn't want to stop using you. But you were so slow. I know that you kept a rhythm, but you were slow. I know that you were precise, but you were slow. I know that you tried, but you were slow. So I switched. And I'm sorry.


I really miss hearing you slide across the paper. The paper would come out one eighth of an inch at a time. And when it was all done, I could tear the sides off. I had to tear the sides off. Otherwise, it was unprofessional. I miss tearing the sides off.
I could make nice signs and banners with you. I mean, I designed them, but you gave them a little something too. Maybe it was the way you would use a perfect 120 dots per inch. Or maybe it was the way you were thrifty with the bits. I don't know what it was, but I never felt better than on my thirteenth birthday, when I stood beneath the sign my older brother made with you that read: Happy Bitch-Day Dumb-Face!

I apologize for sticking you down in our warehouse with my old bike. I'm sorry that the servant used you as a stirrup to hung my mother ex-casserole on the wall. She don't know what you've done. She don't know what you've made for our family. I'm sorry that I'm printing this letter in my new printer. But I don't even know where I can find that nice perforated paper anymore. The times have changed. I'm sorry.

Sincerely,
Irfan Nur Arifani