Tonight will be the last night that I spend on this couch. The "leather" has started peeling, there's hair from creatures of various species tucked between each cushion, and the armrests have started to cave in. I've never liked this couch, but my word have I had some memories on it. Some I won't share because, quite frankly, I don't know who's reading this; and others I'll gladly share… because I don't know who's reading this.
I love you…. but I hate you!
Carly and I acquired this uncomfortable, though visually-inoffensive chair when we first moved in together in 2008. It supported me – literally – while I played games on my terminal Xbox 360 and eventually on my PlayStation 3 and healthy, more recently-acquired Xbox 360. I dragged it close to the entertainment unit when I had a mere nineteen inches of viewing space. I pushed it back when I upgraded to a larger display. I punched it when I lost hundreds of bouts of Street Fighter IV online, and during the hair-tearingly frustrating final mission of Grand Theft Auto IV. I curled up on it as I wept through the last boss fight in Metal Gear Solid: Peace Walker.
Almost everything I've written for consumption via my blog or Bitmob, was written on this couch. Every job application, every trolling comment, every counter-trolling comment, (almost) every email was written on this couch. The insincere back support made me write faster at times… if not, I'd have to lean forward to give my spine sweet, though ineffective respite. I've written enough words to form a dissertation or two on this couch, I guess I owe it some form of farewell.
You did the best you could, leathery soldier.
Tomorrow its replacement will arrive: a stylish, modular suite with a reclining chair and infinitely-better back support. I will more than likely continue to write on this new piece of furniture and rest-assured I'll game from it as well… but it won't be the same. I won't have to battle back pain and discomfort while I climb or rapidly descend half a decade's worth of leaderboards. I'll be more comfortable then ever before, but will I be as determined? Probably. Shit, without having to shift every twenty minutes I may become a paid writer just yet!
Despite my unkind words, I would like to thank you, uncomfortable brown couch for all the time we've shared together. May we never meet again.
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