Letter to Pillow

Hello,

I was jealous of you the first time when BRC mentioned that she wanted to be you in her next lifetime, while I could only think of being an athlete. I had the best laugh in a long time and the most brutal appreciation for her. She said to be you is to relax not just the night, but the whole day through.

True. What must your life be like? Everyone has a chosen you -- hard, soft, medium, side. I love you in the afternoon nap I steal on winter afternoons, you basked in veranda sunlight and me in rice, fish and an orange thereafter. Unlike what she reduced you to, I on the contrary think you have a very active life -- especially one where you are sometimes the solitary testimony to sultry intimacy. Your friend, the bed-sheet likes a bath more often than you rendering you sole witness to soul touch. Active also when you muffle the agonizing tears of gloomy nights and failed knights. It must be painful for you to be suddenly wrung into a capsule, expecting to behave like an absorbent habitat. Or when you are playfully hit across the room by indecisive adults who decide to behave juvenile. Yes, you are rather active.

You contribute in physical pain and cure psychological ones. At best you provide the pedestal for temporary forgetfulness, from either. But I was thinking, do you yearn for your chosen one too -- the head whose rest completes you, the shoulder whose curves cover you, or, those arms that pull you sideways and cuddle you into a woolball? Do you wish to share a story together?

You have made me very comfortable all my life, and in you I find a resort I do not occasionally in a friend sometimes. That was just one instance of me being jealous of you making it into BRC's imagination so powerfully. Refuse me the clothes you dislike next time I down them on you thoughtlessly. Refuse me the lack of attention I pay when I am unmindful and bring close a not-chosen one. You know I would listen.

Wishing you dreams,

K.