A Written World

A chair

I sit on a chair.

It's not a special chair in the slightest, but it holds my weight, so I deem it a win.

I sigh, this chair is a chair.

It has almost no life and needs no help to do what it needs to do. It is born knowing what to do and can accomplish it as a newborn.

This chair is so lucky.

I laugh.

I envy a chair.

The chair that I am sitting on, the one that bears my weight.

The lights are low, I am in no mood for anything bright and flashy.

I love lingering in the dark.

My mom pocks her head in through my door and flicks the light switch.

"You're in the dark."

Thanks captain obvious, I didn't realize.

"Yep,"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine mom."

She watches me entitle for a minute. "You sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay, well, dinner will be ready in five."

"Okay,"

She leaves the room and I am left alone again.

Alone with a chair.

I tip back on it, two legs left to support what four are suppose to.

Ha! Maybe that will make a difference! Make it Harder! I think to the chair.

But it holds me, and only wobbles a little.

I tip onto one leg and let go of my desk.

I tumble to the floor with my chair.

Now you know what it feels like to fall!

It just stays there, waiting.

I stand, towering over it, but it doesn't seem to mind.

I growl and bend over to pick it up.

You need me to pick you up and set you straight. who's the loser now!

But even standing on its four legs it doesn't brag.

Stupid chair!

"Dinner!" I hear my mom's voice eco up the staircase.

Eyeing the chair, I turn and back off towards my door. I turn off the light but leave the door cracked, letting my chair have some light, even if it is from the hall, because it can't add any to its own life.

Because it is a chair.

My chair is strong, but a chair nun-the-less.

It has no life.

And it can not make one for its self.

It is weak.

But that is because it is a chair.

My chair,

But a chair.