I don’t know why I’ve let it go on for so long. I know better. As a rule, the longer I let things fester, the worse things get for everyone involved. Truth be told, I don’t even think they want to be here anymore. They have to know how I feel about them. I’m not sure I ever really liked them nor do I remember what the hell possessed me to bring them home at separate and unrelated moments in history in the first place. They don’t even go together, each one silently repelling the other while projecting negativity all around. I want to start over, but how? So many things rely on them. Oh, they’d love nothing more than to think this is all about them, but I have news for those soul sucking egomaniacs. It’s not. They would’ve been long gone by now if it wasn’t for my inability to think outside the box. Change is hard for me. Almost as hard as big decision making. Both require a certain skill set that I have yet to attain, despite really needing/wanting it.
I’m pretty sure I hate them at this point. I’m not proud of it. I for sure hate myself for not standing up to them and what they represent. Stagnation. Indifference. Boredom. Regret. One has a giant fucking snowflake on it okay? It’s almost April. No one wants to look at a giant fucking snowflake anymore, even if it’s really pretty. Sadly, that’s the best one of the bunch and I’d be a complete dick if I get rid of the best one first. The fact that I couldn’t have cared less to pack it away with its chipper seasonal friends a few months back speaks volumes, but that ship has sailed. I went all in on the complimentary fucking snowflake because it made sense at the time and prevented me from confronting the real problem.
Then there’s the big guy who clearly missed the memo that burnt orange is definitely not what all the cool kids are doing anymore. Even I know that and I own one purse. Let me tell you something else about Mr. Ginormous Eyesore. He scares the living shit out of me, okay? I’m not sure I have the balls to even get near him without surgical gloves and/or a long stick at this point. Ugh.
The middle one is a great big sad and pathetic story of its own. What used to be sparkly and full of intrigue, now appears weathered and dull and completely insignificant. Truth be told, no one would even notice if it was gone, poor thing. Its personality has literally been chipped away over years of misuse to reveal an abrasiveness I never thought possible. It hurts and I don’t know what the hell happened. It used to be my favorite one. Yes, I pick favorites. Sue me.
Let’s assume for a moment that I can actually go through with replacing them. What if I make the wrong decision? What if they don’t get along with the ceramic elephant in the room? I can’t get rid of the elephant in the room. He’s symbolic and he has a name. It’s Gustavo. The whole return process and thought of starting over at square one is so unbelievably exhausting that I honestly don’t think I have the stamina to recover from something like that. I know my limits and pointless running around from place to place with nothing to show for it at the end of the day is definitely one of them. I’d rather take a nap. Doing things that don’t matter have become highly bothersome. It’s hard to care.
That said, it’s not like it’s a bedroom or the office where I can just close the door and no one will be the wiser. There is no door. It’s the living room for fuck sake! People will notice and then draw conclusions regarding my personality, general appeal, and overall worldly significance. What does Jill bring to the room? Am I bright and cheery, purple and mysterious, brown and feckless, white and crazy? It’s a giant fucking snowflake and it’s almost summer! You do the math.
I need new throw pillows. Whatever.