Stuck Inside My Couch

Oh man. I’m here again.

Couch, I thought this was over.  I thought you had let me go and that we had gotten past this.

Look, I think you’re great. I really do.  We’ve had a lot of good memories.  Great memories, I’d even say.  But I can’t keep doing this.  I have a life I need to live. I have pants I need to put on.

Yes, you’re comfortable.  Yes, you offer a slightly less depressing place for DDS (daytime depression sleeping) than my bed.  And yes, I can quickly pretend I was just folding laundry if anyone comes in and says, ” You’re STILL sleeping?!”

But I really think (after tomorrow) I’m going to have to stop sinking into your cozy comfort of avoidance of my real life.  I really think (after the day after tomorrow) we’re going to have to part ways and only come together when I need someplace to temporarily sit.  And (after the day that comes after the day after the day after tomorrow so we’re kind of looking at next week) I really would appreciate it if you’d stop giving me such an easy place to continue drowning in my own sloppy mess of depression and worthlessness.

It’s okay – you still have the cat.


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