Mind Nomad Writing

I think I have a lot in common with furniture. I can be quite helpful, pragmatic, and useful. I’ve gotten used to observing the coming and going of those that forget that I’m around. Being seen and not heard always came easily. 

I’m not sure furniture asks itself the same kinds of questions I did during my childhood, though. I wondered if it was common for furniture to feel as lonely and discarded as I did. I wondered why it was that I sat there collecting dust like some kind of child-trophy that had lost its sheen.

Why not play with me? Why not talk to me? Why not admire me? Why not comfort me? Must be boring. Must be worn. Must be defective. Must be repulsive.

While I struggled to answer these questions, I foolishly mistook my parents’ invitations to play their telephone games as a bid for my connection. Here came mom, unbothered by the thin film of dust caking my clothes, she was coming to engage with me – so I told myself. Here came dad, able to look past the sheath of rust left by disuse, he was coming to spend time together I hoped privately.

Wishful thinking. Naivety. Childish optimism. Defense mechanism against hopelessness. Call it what you want – I called it my best chance. If I could listen closely enough maybe I’d be good, maybe I’d earn my place, maybe I’d solve their problems, maybe I’d become valuable, maybe they’d come visit me more often.

This game of telephone was never quite as fun and definitely never as forgiving as the games of telephone we played at school. These ones seemed to have ever shifting rules, one parent not waiting their turn and interrupting the game while it was the other one’s turn. Classroom voices were most certainly not used and even when I heard the message there was never any reward for relaying it accurately back to the sender. 

Eventually, I came to realize just how much I have in common with furniture. Like the furniture, purchased to mark important steps toward ‘success’ and financial milestones, I occupied space as a placeholder for my parents’ social accomplishments. My existence marked the completion of an important task in their role as parents – to create ornamental children to commemorate the fact, to themselves and to others, that they had ‘made it.’

#Parentify me Capin’