Conversations with Objects

(language warning)


“Why must you wound me?” asks Chair

“Because I wish to expand what you may become,” I answer

Unsatisfied, Chair responds, “And?” 

“Because I wish to see what other stories you have to tell,” I reply


Discomforted by the uneasy silence, I sense a reproach in the pause

Needing to break the stillness I say, “Because I must see if I can generate narratives beyond the pain”


The silence continues, but now the tension within it is filled with possibilities 



 “Fuck you Bed” I whispered under my breath


“What did you say?” asked bed and I realised that I had not been as quiet as I had thought


“FUCK YOU BED” I shouted, hoping for some small sense of release


Bed muttered something in reply, but I was no longer listening



 I thought Table should know, so I said “One of your legs is wobbly” 

 “No-one’s perfect” Table replied



“My pages are blank” say Book, full of eagerness

 Opening Book, I flick through page after page, each one already full of words and tales

 “Liar” I say angrily. “How am I meant to write my story when everything has already been said?” 


Book remains calm and kind and my annoyance grows


I wait for a response, but none comes. So, I open Book up again, this time paying more attention to the gaps between the lines



 Knife’s steel handle is cool in my hand

Knife’s serrated blade forms small ridges under my finger

The pressure from the tip of Knife’s blade fills me with hope

I don’t need Knife to speak



With a single twist of my arms, I empty Drawer’s contents all over the ground

 I smile with satisfaction but Drawer whines “I’m no good empty!”


“It’ll be fine” I reply, perhaps a little too dismissively 

 Drawer remains unconvinced having known no other role

“Don’t worry” I say, this time more reassuringly, “I will fill you with other things”



“Open, close, open, close, open, close, open, close, open, close” sings Door

 “Enough!” I yell

 “Open, close, open, close, open”

 I try again, “Stop it!!” 

 “Open, close, open, close”


“Don’t you ever have anything else to say?”





“Who do you love more?” Chair asks

“What does it matter?” I respond, a little confused about where this line of questioning has come from

“Am I you favourite?” Chair persists

“I don’t have a favourite” I say not even convincing myself of the truth to that statement

“They said they loved the person the most who needed them the most” 

I am strung by that memory and annoyed that Chair would bring this up, so I don’t respond


I wonder if Chair senses my need



 Pillow whines “Stop punching me” 


So, I stop and search for who I can punish instead



 “What is this, an intervention?” I say to Bed and Pillow

 “Perhaps it is,” Bed responds

 “An intervention for you or me?” I ask

 “Good question,” says Pillow

 “You intervene with us” replies Bed, “so why can't we do the same with you?”


I think for a moment and this time it is me who comments “Good question”



 “Please stay closed” I beg

 “But I cannot be whole if I only fulfill half my destiny” Door says, more insightful than before



 “Can’t you be more open? I can’t fit through” I exclaim in frustration

 “It doesn't matter how wide I open, I am still open” says Door smugly “That you can't make it through is your problem”


“I can fix that” I say perhaps too aggressively, and Door slams shut in my face, refusing to let me move on



 “Open, close, open, close, open, close, open, close, open, close” sings Drawer

 “Not you too” I sigh

 “Door told me what happened, you weren’t kind” says Drawer

 “I know, but Door was blocking my way forward, so I had no choice” I reply defensively


“There is always a choice” says Drawer softly



 “I thought you forgot about me” Table says sadly

 “No” I reply not knowing what else to say

 “I thought perhaps you didn’t want me anymore” Table responds


I know Table is right, so I stay silent instead of causing further pain