I stand in my room, eyes turned to my bed, looking straight at my pillow. I squint my eyes, and daggers come flying out of them. I direct these daggers toward my pillow and try to land a critical hit but fail to hit my target.
You see, it all began many moons ago. Our relationship started out as any other good one. Sparks flew everywhere around the two of us; we were in love, and I thought nothing could get us to part. Our relationship was certainly to stand the test of time; it was, without a doubt, going to be a deep, passionate love for the rest of our lives. Little did I know that this would sour over time. Soon, we found ourselves no longer talking to one another. The smile we used to share in secret has turned into a frown and shake of our heads. Our relationship has legitimately become prickly. At first, it was pure softness, care and tenderness in which we embraced each other. The nights of pure bliss and peaceful sleep are but a distant memory.
I cannot help but think it is my fault for having been a bit rough at times during the night and early hours of the morning, but I know it started with a prick of the neck. Soon, I found my head and face on the receiving end of some good old pricking. I could not believe what I was experiencing. Clearly, this was an act of rebellion, something malicious with the intent of hurting me and, more importantly, keeping me from that all-too-important sleep I love so much. I felt betrayed! However, I was more than willing to try and make things work. We tried therapy and talking things out, but it would seem as though we grew apart. Our interests had changed over the many years of being together. We no longer believed in the same things, and it seemed like our paths were diverging, but neither of us was willing to call things off and end them where they stood. We are both stubborn and unwilling to admit defeat. So, what was our choice? The choice was to live with one another in bitterness, judgement, resentment and disappointment. I would constantly ponder if tonight would be different and a little more civilised, and at first, it might be the case, but within a few minutes of putting my head on the pillow, I would be overwhelmed by discomfort and a prick or two in my neck. Try as I might to flip, turn, smash, bash and the all-important fluff, it would seem that nothing would change this uncivil interaction.
I put my hands over my eyes, give a little scream and make sure I let my pillow know it once used to be beautiful, but now it has it in for me. I think if ever they make it a crime to deprive someone of sleep, I will be the first to report this aggressor to the appropriate authorities. However, I am merely looking at things from my perspective, and it tells me that I have been hurt but does not tell me that I have also been doing the hurting. I have thought that wrong has been done unto me, and I could not have done any wrong myself. However, it takes the party of two to do what is wrong. Both of us are guilty of mistreatment, and neither of us has come to a solution that doesn’t involve hurting the other. It takes reflection and courage to admit to oneself of having done wrong, and even more courage to apologise and move forward in a constructive way that benefits both involved. All too common and with much ease, we find ourselves walking away and looking for a replacement without having tried to make things work in the first place.
Well, off to the kingdom of the pillows I go. I wonder if I could find another like you or even better. I wonder what I will feel when I arrive. Maybe none would compare as favourably to my old trusty pillow.
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