Oh backspace key, how I love you.
A simple piece of plastic between enter and F12.
You bring forgiveness to the qwerty keyboard.
Even forgiving my occasional fling with your close sister, delete.
You have kept me from embarrassing myself.
You are the mediator of my emotions.
You act as a buffer between my unchained thought and the subdued words that end up on the computer screen.
I have passed myths as fact.
I have admitted infidelity.
I have insulted. I have made insensitive remarks about someone’s race, sexuality, age, weight etc..
I have lied.
You have erased all the regrettable dialogue I typed up.
You have understood my drunken anger and stopped me from sending something that would ruin my relationship with a close friend or family member.
I can only imagine the destruction and chaos you have helped avert.
You have taken my piss poor excuse for writing and turned it into something bearable to the public.
A sort of teacher, maybe even more of a critic.
You say, “That’s what you’re going to write”? With that I second guess myself and press you until the ill-fated letters are gone.
You have taught me something nobody else has been able to. You taught me to think longer and harder than I normally would.
I have become smarter, because of you.
I have become more thoughtful, because of you.
My use of your power during this work can almost be called abuse.
I am happier, because of you.
The incorrect words are your food, the correct ones your feces.
I thank you backspace key for helping me correct this rough draft I call my life.