Stay

“I can’t fight for this” I say. “I can’t fight.”

Those eight words speak pride to you, they speak of a mind too fierce to go low.

Those eight words speak my life, who I am, how I started.

They speak of days with tear-stained pillow cases, and muffled screams.

They speak of hour long showers, with my tears and the shower, flowing in unity.

I can’t fight.

Not because I do not have the strength to, but because I just won’t

Not because you’re not worth the fight, but because I’m worth the saving

If I fight, and you’re gone, what would be next?

Another fight to save myself from the pain?

Or a total surrender to life as I know it?

“I can’t fight” I’d say.”I can’t fight”

All I’m really saying is “Please don’t let me have to fight”

It’s not you, it’s me.

This is the part where you call me in.
This is the part where we sit, an air of discomfort swirling around us
This is the part where you look me in the eyes and say with a broken voice “What went wrong?”
This is the part when I look in your eyes with uncertainty and attempt to proceed

***

“It’s not you, it’s me
I’m bored. I’m jaded. I just can’t go on.
I’m in dire need of some new kinda activity. Something different. Something new.
I didn’t grow out of you. I just…”

My voice trails off when I see your look

***

“Don’t patronize me!” you scream
WHAT. WENT. WRONG?!

***

I look at you, rise from my chair and walk towards the door.
I take one more look at you
“Nothing went wrong.” I say
“It really isn’t you, it’s me.”

***

This is the part where I walk away
This is the part when I hope you call me back
This is the part when I hope we would have another conversation when you’ve cooled off
This is the part when I hold on to that hope.

The Old Sofa

My name is Jack’s. Jack’s Sofa. I belong to Jack.

I’ve been with him for eight years now. When Jack was in his finals in graduate school, he got me. He had said he needed to own something to start out with his life. I was lying just by the corner in the furniture store when he came in. I snickered at his youthful poise and told my friends at the store – Old cushion and Rocking chair – that surely he had come for old cushion ’cause he could never afford me.

You see, I wasn’t proud back then. I just knew who I was. A bright, soft, comfortable sofa. I was the kind of sofa you brought your homies home to settle on. I was homely, dependable and soft. Oh so soft! I was all-purpose too. You could take my cushions off and roll my insides out for an overnight rest. I was simply all a young man needed. Certainly not this young man, I was out of his league.

I was wrong. Jack had all it took to get me! The sweet softness and charisma to convince Gloria to let me go at a reasonable price, the light in his eyes when he described how much he wanted me, the enthusiasm when he counted all he had and paid for me. He said “This sofa is all I want and more” and with that, I bid farewell to Old cushion and Rocking chair, I was off to be delivered at Jack’s.

I got my name in the first two weeks after I was delivered. Jack was trying to move out and start out with his life, so he put me at the corner of the house in the mean time. Everyone that passed couldn’t help asking: Whose pretty sofa is this? You know the response. “It’s Jack’s. Jack’s Sofa”.

Jack and I and all his few belongings moved into a studio flat soon after. He was everything I wanted too. He’d handle me with care and keep me away when his boozing friends came around. He never wanted anything to happen to me. I stayed bright, soft and dependable.

Then, things changed. Jack changed.

Jack was moving ahead with his life, so he decided to redecorate his flat. He got a complete set of chairs for the living room with a proud sofa at the center. Then, he tossed me behind the house as a storage space. When anything needed fixing in the house; he’d say “I’ll just put it on the old sofa till I can get it sorted”.

I wish Jack wouldn’t use me this way, but he would, he doesn’t care much anymore. So today I decided I needed fixing too. I let out my springs and shot them deep into some item he’d dropped on me for fixing.

Now, he’d have to fix me too.

 Or throw me out.