The Red Couch

The couch is red. It is not a pleasant red it is a red so fucking red I cannot imagine a setting where it would look appropriate. Not so much appear appropriate as to look in place. Not so much as to look in place as to look desirable, that’s it. It does not look desirable. It has the appearance of looking cast off, used not wanted by anyone who would spend money on it. Where it sits it does indeed look appropriate. It is dirty, quite filthy in fact. No one has bothered to clean it I imagine since it was placed there. I was not there when it arrived I have no idea where it came from I could guess and get pretty close if I bothered or cared to. 

I have sat in it once. I take measures to avoid it. I would rather stand on achy feet and legs than to sit on that filthy cast off couch. When I got up from the couch it left me feeling dirty and rather assaulted. It looks unassuming enough, we trust where sit as a rule rather than questioning is it safe or am I going what is best for me. I cannot imagine sleeping on that couch. To know that someone has and would gladly sleep there, if given the chance totally creeps me out. I am not ashamed to say I have slept in some dirty conditions but that couch is completely out of bounds to me. Not only is it dirty and leaves a feeling of being dirty once remove yourself from it but it is uncomfortable to sit in as well.

I watch people sit in it. Very few people I have witnessed sit in it comfortably. There seems to be a lot of reluctance from most people I have seen sit in it. I am sometimes surprised at who looks comfortable in that fucking ugly dirty couch. There are of course some no brainers on who would take to it as if an old friend and could sleep there like it is a trusted and welcomed lover. These people who look so willing to sit in the worst possible choice are in this place for a reason a reason that is rather insulting and judgmental from my view point. We all have judgments, that how we know when to cross the street or throw away old milk. We have to decide what is safe and who to be around. The cost for being around people who happen to be making the same choice albeit for different reasons is the cost of living in a free society where everyone can move about as they see fit.  I sometimes try to evaluate my decisions based on others who also seem to be making the same decision. Pretty fucking high and mighty of me I think.

The fucking couch traps you in, envelops you as if it has seen itself and knows that if given a choice most people would sit somewhere else. The cushions are worn out and the back is too deep to give much support. It is a real commitment to sit in there because it requires so much effort to remove yourself from it. It holds you as if you may be the last person to ever sit in it again.