Flappy Bird: In Memoriam
We hardly knew you, Flappy Bird. It's been just over a week since you first began to pump your little wings on my iPhone, and just like that your creator has returned you to a cage, calling you "addictive" and "a problem." I know why the caged bird sings, Maya Angelou. It's because it wants to be released back into the open air of the App Store.
You had your ups and downs, Flappy Bird. Well, my phone had ups and downs when I threw it into the air after losing 83 times in a row. Our relationship might've been short-lived, but the passionate anger I felt for you was so real. At the encouragement of my anger management counselor, also known as my roommate, I've written you a eulogy.
Dear Flappy Bird,
From the moment I downloaded you as a way to distract myself from the stomach flu, I knew our relationship would be difficult. The first few times I tapped the screen with my index finger to navigate you through the pipes, I went through fits of nostalgia. You looked just like the Nintendo games from my childhood. You, Flappy Bird, reminded me of the first time I played Super Mario Bros. at a friend's house, a small act of rebellion against my mother's oppressive anti-video game regime. I thank you for that.
I'll miss you, Flappy Bird, for your cute name. Let me say it a few more times before I let go forever: Flappy Bird, Flappy Bird. You sound like the lyrics to a Phoebe Buffay song.
When I think of Dong Nguyen naming you, I picture a cute baby duck by a pond trying to flap its wings. A cute toddler waddles over to it points and says, "Look mom, it's a flappy bird." But that three-year-old will never experience the maniacal anger a person can feel whilst slamming a cartoon bird into faded green pipes.
I feel like I never really understood you, Flappy Bird. And now, my questions about your existence will forever remain unanswered. Where did you come from? Why were you trying to navigate through the green pipes? And why were you so fucking bad at flying?
Is it my fault? Did I not tap my finger fast enough? Why couldn't you have had more than one life so I could get through more than one godforsaken pipe in a game? Where were you flying to anyway? Was there money at the end of the pipes or freedom? ANSWER ME, YOU FUCKING BIRD.
I want to hate you for the anger that you've caused me, but now that you're gone I feel as though I need to learn to forgive you. I will try to let go of the 10 hours it took for me to get through the first two pipes. Or the five hours after that before I finally reached the high score of 8 points.
When people ask me about the crack on the backside of my phone, I will try not to scream out, "Fucking Flappy Bird." After all, the anger is my fault, not yours. I may have deleted you from my phone in a small rage last weekend, but you don't deserve to be gone forever. May your little bird soul rest in peace.
Wait, my roommate just informed me that because I already downloaded Flappy Bird I still own it. Shit. I'm going to go take a Xanax.