This piece is about life would be like as an object. I chose to do a sofa chair as they are relatively basic, but can have more meaning to them than first meets the eye. This journal type writing will make you forgot that you are reading about a chair and create the illusion that this in fact is a person that does feel and cares about others.

The Life of a Solitary Sofa Chair

Day 100

I have always wondered what it would be like to roam the open world, however, as something that can't move it's legs; I can only anguish in the idea. Everyday I see the birds flying or the people crossing the street and I can only think about what it would be like to be one of them. Life as a sofa chair is a lazy and boring one. The scenery never changes except those once in awhile opportunities where they move me to another room when they vacuum. God I love that vacuum, he gives me the chance to spread my horizons, stretch my chair legs, and say hello to my fellow furniture. They are always so kind to me. Always saying hello and hoping that I will be back, but we always know that it will be quite sometime before then.

Day 142

Today my caretakers came home, after their vacation to the United States, my homeland. I believe they said that they had a good time as it is hard to understand them through their heavy Irish accents. The little one said that she lived it when they visited that "authentic Irish pub" in New York. Her dad really laughed at that one. The guy really loves his liquor. Just the other day he spilled a pint of beer all over my fabric and some guys had to come over and rip off my skin and give me a new one. It doesn't feel right. It has a bunch of flowers on it and says, "Gotta love that Irish spirit." What does that even mean?

Day 175

Today was the best day of my life. The family just sold their house and now had to move all of their furniture. I was one of the last to go, but the most incredible thing happened. I got to see what the outside looked like for the first time. It's not as beautiful as I though it would be, and it was quite loud, but by God I will never forget this day for as long as I haven't rusted away and withered to misery. The birds were flying and only one pooped on me, which the annoying little girl had wash off, as she spilled juice all over me. No matter though.

Day 201

I have grown to love this new house. They have put me in an all glass room so I get to see the outside all the time. They even brought in a new pink chair to give me company. She has nice flowers on her and is always smiling at me. I really like her.

Day 234

How dare they! Somebody that I have never seen before broke through the window and busted up the entire house. The worst thing I can imagine is the one thing they did. They ripped up my beautiful friend and turned her into firewood right before my very eyes. The only reason they didn't destroy me was because they said I was too ugly and deserved to burden my owners with my ugliness. That really hurt my feelings. I got angry and fell over, which really gave them a fright, enough so that  they fled into the night.

Day 897

It has been years since I have written in my journal, but now that I have, I write my final goodbyes. I am on my way, as we speak, to the dump where I will be turned into scrap. My gears have rusted and my fabric, which was once brand new, has been torn to pieces. I have lived a good life, but I understand that my time has come. So for the final time I say, good night and good luck. Requiescat en pace. Rest in peace.